


in the dark

by medievalraven



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brief Beth/OMC, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fake Dating, Mild Sexual Content, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:41:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 45,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22341226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medievalraven/pseuds/medievalraven
Summary: “Well it’s come to my attention that my husband may have made certain arrangements with you and your friends,” Beth says, her thumb lifting to play with her wedding bands, a nervous habit she’d never been able to break, before remembering they were now tucked away in her jewelry box at home.The man lets out a breathy chuckle.  “You ain’t gettin’ more time if that’s what this is about.”“No, actually I have a business proposition for you,” Beth replies, squaring her shoulders at the man’s unamused expression.  “Let me work off his debt to you.”orIn a desperate move to save Boland Motors Dean makes a deal with Rio, but when he can't pay back his debt Beth is forced to make an unexpected offer to save her family.
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 250
Kudos: 635





	1. Chapter 1

There was a time when the only thing Beth wanted to do was drive.

To borrow the keys for her mom’s beat-up Chevy and ride around the neighborhood, music blasting from worn speakers, with Ruby sitting shotgun while her mother “rested” in her dark bedroom. 

It was her escape when it felt like everything was crumbling down around her.

Because behind the wheel she wasn’t the girl whose father abandoned her or the girl that had to work the night shift to make sure there was enough money to buy food or even the bright girl who wasn’t living up to her potential.

She was in control of something, anything, finally. She had power.

And really when she was younger Beth thought it was perfect that she ended up marrying Dean, the heir apparent to a used car dealership. It was almost like a sign that she’d made the right choice, that she’d finally get a chance at the life she was always chasing.

But life never did seem to work out the way she wanted.

She’s only just pulled out of the development, the last warm fall day sun heating her hands and cheeks, when her phone chimes on the passenger seat, the loud vibrations against the leather making her jump as the number for the dealership flashed across the screen.

She lets it rattle around for another minute, debating if she should pick up or not as a red convertible speeds down the rumble strip to pass her before finally letting out a deep sigh and hitting the green answer button.

“Hello?”

“Beth?” Dean’s voice fills the car, the slightest hint of panic lacing his words. “Oh good - hey I think I left my phone at the house this morning, do you mind running it by the dealership when you have a chance?”

“Well I’m on my way to lunch with Ruby now,” Beth starts, checking the time and grimacing when she realizes how late it is. “But I guess I could stop by after.”

“Is there any way you could do it before?” Dean asks a little frantically and Beth rolls her eyes as she stops at a red light. “There’s just some stuff on there that I need for this customer that’s coming in soon and I’m really swamped here.”

Eyeing the clock again Beth pinches the bridge of her nose briefly before the sound of the car behind her honking its horn makes her open her eyes. 

“I guess I could turn back and run it out to you, do you remember where you left it?” Beth replies slowly, switching on her turn signal.

“You’re the best Bethie,” Dean says and Beth can almost feel his relief at her agreement to help. “Kenny was playing with it this morning so it’s probably in the kitchen, you know we should really think about - “ he pauses suddenly mid-sentence and if it wasn’t for his heavy breaths, loud enough to be heard over the rumbling car engine, she would have assumed the call had dropped.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, erm yeah, hey listen something’s come up,” Dean says quickly as the sound of other voices slowly starts to fill the line. “We’ll talk later okay?”

The line beeps twice in Beth’s ear signaling the end of the call and she has to fight the urge to throw her phone onto the floor of the car. Shaking her head she shoots a quick text to Ruby to apologize and turns down a side street to head back home.

It takes her another thirty minutes before she finally pulls into the parking lot at the dealership, the unexpected trip home taking more time than even she’d thought when Dean’s phone wasn’t magically in the kitchen but somehow on the floor in Jane’s room, half-hidden by the soft pink fabric of her dubby. 

From her spot in the corner of the lot, she can just make out the large ‘Boland Motors’ sign looming over the building, the white of the sign so stark against the light blue of the sky and never failing to remind Beth of the first time she’d ever been to the lot.

She’d only been dating Dean a couple of weeks when he’d brought her to the dealership after prom, the soft clicks of her kitten heels echoing through the office as he showed her what was going to be all _his_ one day. Or all _theirs_ one day he’d said before taking her hand in his clammy one and giving her a sheepish smile.

It had been a lot sure, but at that moment looking around the dark space Beth couldn’t help but feel hopeful in her, _their_ , future in a way she never had before. 

But now? Staring at the glass walls of the dealership, she could recognize the warning signs that were there all along, hidden away behind overgrown vines and rusted over barbed wire, and she powerless to do anything to change it.

Sighing softly Beth turns off the engine and reaches across the car to pick up her purse and Dean’s phone, wincing slightly when the full weight of her bag lands on her shoulder. 

The lot’s quiet, only a few customers milling around the cars and a couple of salesmen lurking in the background ready to pounce when they sensed a sale, but no Dean.

Turning towards the main building, Beth watches as the side door swings open and a man with closely cropped black hair and a dark jacket walks out, cell phone against his ear and a terse expression working its way across his face. 

He must see her approaching because he pauses, holding the door open with his shoulder as he continues with his conversation, his eyes briefly tracking her progress towards him before dipping down towards the ground.

She’s far enough away that she has to awkwardly jog the remaining distance to the door before brushing past him to enter the office. She murmurs a quick thank you before the spice from his cologne floods her senses and makes her pause. But when she glances back he’s gone, the glass door quietly bouncing in the frame the only sign he was ever there to begin with. 

“Mrs. Boland? What brings you in?”

Turning back to the main floor Beth sees the smiling face of Dean’s secretary, her long blonde curls cascading over her shoulders. 

“Oh, Dean just forgot his phone. God forbid he go a couple of hours without Candy Crush,” Beth jokes easily, leaning forward to accept Amber’s hug. “Is he in his office?”

“You know I think he’s just finishing up a meeting, but I can pass it along for you,” Amber says, looking over her shoulder quickly before reaching out to grab the phone from Beth’s hand.

And there’s something in Amber’s voice that makes Beth hesitate, that same hint of panic she’d heard in Dean earlier before he hung up on her. 

“Really it’s no problem,” Beth starts, clocking how Amber angles her body slightly to block Beth’s view into Dean’s office across the floor. “I actually need to remind him about Emma’s recital tomorrow, so I don’t mind waiting. Unless that’s a problem?”

Amber bristles, the beginning of a pink flush building in her cheeks. “Well no, it’s just I would hate for you to waste your time waiting.”

Somewhere a phone rings loudly and Beth watches as Amber glances towards her desk, debating if she should pick it up or not before putting her hand up in resignation.

“Why don’t you just take a seat in the lounge and I’ll let Mr. Boland know you’re here?” Amber says pushing Beth back towards the short hallway she came in through before answering the phone.

Checking the time on her watch again, Beth takes a few steps down the hallway before looking back to make sure Amber was still on the phone and doubling back to walk towards Dean’s office instead, her pace slowing when she notices that he actually is in a meeting.

Two men are sitting in the chairs in front of Dean’s desk and even as far away as Beth is she can make out the tattoos decorating their arms (and head of one of the men), dark patches of black ink that seem to bleed into each other.

And this was what had made Dean and Amber so nervous? A couple of guys with some tattoos?

It’s only when she gets closer that she notices how rigid Dean’s posture is, how worry has etched its way into the fine lines of his forehead as he points to something on his computer that leaves one of the men sneering. 

It had to have been years since Beth had seen Dean like this, if she really ever had. For all his faults he was always able to stay calm when things were falling apart around them, always that steady presence next to her in those low moments with a goofy smile and joke in his back pocket ready to break the mood.

The man closest to the door shifts back in his chair and under the fluorescent light there’s no mistaking the bright gleam of metal as the man runs his palm down the barrel of a gun.

Beth freezes next to one of the display cars, watching as Dean becomes even more flustered at whatever the man with the gun is saying, his nervous laugh loud enough that it breaches the glass walls of the office and echoes around her.

The meeting seems to end quickly after that, the men moving swiftly to the door despite Dean’s efforts to keep them talking. Beth turns and pretends to look over the interior of the car next to her as the men walk into the showroom, the larger of the two pausing in the doorway to say “Four days car man, don’t forget” before they leave out the main door.

She waits a couple of minutes before moving slowly towards the office and Dean’s limp form slouched in his chair, head buried in his hands. 

“Special delivery!”

And it’s almost impressive how fast Dean’s entire demeanor shifts once he sees Beth standing in his doorway. His body quickly lifting to rest stiffly against the back of his chair and a fake smile appearing on his face as if she hadn’t just seen him look so defeated.

“Hey, wow you got here really fast,” Dean says, reaching out to slam his laptop shut.

“Yeah, no traffic,” Beth hums, placing the phone on his desk with a soft thud.

Dean nods absently before picking up his phone, a weak chuckle escaping his lips as he scrolls through his missed messages.

And really Beth knows that she’s been dismissed, that she served her purpose and she can go to meet Ruby, but how could she just leave after what she saw? 

“Dean,” Beth starts, her hand reaching out to grip his forearm and stop his scrolling. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course,” he mumbles, turning off the screen and putting the phone in his pocket. 

“It’s just those guys didn’t seem like the happiest of customers,” she continues, lifting her hand to adjust the strap on her purse, the sound of Amber’s heels clacking in the showroom quickly growing louder in the office.

Dean sighs loudly, his eyes meeting hers for a brief moment before they sweep over her shoulder. He opens and closes his mouth a couple times, shaking his head when he can’t seem to find the words he wants until finally he makes a decision... 

\--

“-Then he told me, 'It's nothing for you to worry about, Bethie,’ before practically pushing me out the door,” Beth says, spearing a few pieces of lettuce with enough force to send a tomato tumbling from her plate.

And on some level she hadn’t actually expected Dean to confide in her what had happened in that meeting. Beth had years of experience telling her that Dean didn’t need or want her advice, so it wasn’t a huge surprise when he’d rebuffed her.

It’s just that whatever had happened had clearly been something. 

There was no logical explanation for why a customer (and god were they even customers?) would pull out a gun in the middle of a meeting. And for a moment Beth had hoped that maybe he’d ask her for help or at least tell her what had lead to that.

But instead, he’d unceremoniously excused her without so much as a second thought before pulling Amber into his office and shutting the blinds, leaving Beth looking in from the outside again.

“I just can’t believe that after everything we’ve been through, he still doesn’t trust me enough to say what’s bothering him.”

Reaching across the table Ruby picks up the fallen tomato and takes a bite. Beth watches as she slowly chews, clearly using the pause in the conversation to come up with some kind of appropriate advice. 

“Honestly B I don’t know what to tell you, this whole thing sounds shady as hell,” Ruby starts, shaking her head. “You’re sure you saw a gun?”

“I don’t know what else it could have been,” Beth says, lowering her voice when a pair of young mothers sit down at the table next to them.

Ruby hums, flashing a quick smile at the waitress clearing her empty plate. “Maybe they were trying to convince him to stop doing those stupid commercials. God knows I could do without seeing Dean in a pig suit again.”

Letting out a sigh Beth reaches up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear before sliding her half-eaten salad to the waitress, her appetite disappearing with all the Dean talk. “That’s hilarious.”

“Look, maybe this whole thing’s just a big misunderstanding,” Ruby comments. “Or maybe he’s doing something he shouldn’t be, but there’s only one way you’re going to find out.”

“Can’t wait,” Beth mutters, reaching into her purse to pull out her wallet and put her credit card on top of the bill. “Okay enough about me, how are you? How’s Sara doing?”

Across the table Beth watches as Ruby’s face falls, the beginning of tears dotting the corners of her eyes. 

“We’re managing, it’s just been rough. The insurance company’s been giving us the run-around again and Stan’s started to pull doubles to get as much overtime as he can,” Ruby says, a small smile tugging on her lips when Beth reaches out to hold her hand, her thumb slowly dragging along Ruby’s knuckles.

“Excuse me? Mrs. Boland?” 

Turning slightly Beth meets the nervous eyes of their waitress clutching a black bill folder. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but your card was declined. Do you have another we could try?”

Beth feels the prick of embarrassment wash over her like a wave, shame burrowing under her skin and pushing against her chest.

And suddenly she’s fourteen again, coming home from school to see an eviction notice taped to their apartment door and hearing her neighbors whisper about those poor girls next door. Suddenly she’s failed again without realizing it. 

“There must be some kind of mistake,” Beth says slowly, her hand falling away from Ruby’s to grip the edge of the table. “Could you try it again? Maybe it was just a fluke?” 

“We ran it a couple times ma’am,” the waitress replies, reaching out to put the card back on the table in front of Beth. “Is there a different one that you’d like to try?”

Running her finger across the embossed numbers Beth grabs her wallet and flips through the other cards to figure out which one she could use instead, avoiding the look of pity working its way across Ruby’s face.

The card had worked that morning at the grocery store and then the fabric outlet where she’d bought some new tulle to fix Emma’s ballet outfit. And Beth knows that there should be enough money here, she can remember writing out the check and handing the bill to Dean to mail on his way to work last week.

“Beth, let me treat you. You had a rough morning,” Ruby says gently, reaching for her own wallet. 

And it’s as if the last piece of the puzzle was snapped into place, Ruby’s words making Beth freeze, credit cards forgotten. Because it couldn’t be...

“No,” Beth breaths, ignoring the rush of panic working its way up her spine and instead plucking out a bill from her wallet to pass to the waitress. “It’s okay, it must just be some weird thing with the strip on the back. Those things are always having issues.”

Pushing back in her seat, Beth’s careful to not slide into the college student wearing oversized headphones behind her before turning back to Ruby with a smile she hopes doesn’t look too forced.

“Now do you have time for a latte or do you need to get back to the diner?”

\--

Beth’s just set the sauce to simmer when the sound of a car alarm chirping breaks through the kids’ laughter in the backyard, the first hints of twilight painting the wooden playset in muted shades of pink and purple. 

Through the window she sees Dean stride into the yard, pausing to roughhouse with Kenny before pulling out his cell to answer a call.

In the end it was almost annoying how easily Beth was able to pull back the curtain on all of Dean’s lies and find the answers to questions she never wanted to ask.

After a quick detour for caramel macchiatos and a promise to binge the latest Bachelor season, Beth sat alone in her van scrolling through the sea of red numbers filling her, _their_ , bank account.

And Beth would be the first to admit that maybe she didn’t check her statements that closely, that she trusted Dean’s ability to take care of their finances a little too much in recent months, a concession that had made Dean preen when she actually accepted his offer to help.

Help that had apparently led to thousands, _tens of thousands_ , of dollars being withdrawn from their account that morning at a bank just around the corner from the dealership. 

Enough cash to leave their balance in single digits, the sad total balance silently mocking Beth until her phone darkened and only her mascara-smeared face was reflected back at her.

“Hey,” Beth turns to see Dean walk through the side door, a small pile of mail in his hands. “The Cooper’s dog got out again, I almost hit it coming around the corner.”

Beth lets out a noncommittal hum, reaching out to taste the sauce before adding another pinch of oregano to the pot and picking up an extra clove of garlic. Something was off with the recipe, something missing, but she couldn’t figure out what no matter how much she tried. 

“You’d think since they had all that money to put in a big pool they’d bother to get a better fence,” Dean continues, the mail dropped forgotten onto the counter as he grabs a beer from the fridge, wiping the excess condensation on his shirt and leaving a wet smear across his stomach.

“Well everyone has their own idea about how to spend money,” Beth mumbles, slowly dicing the garlic, the steady press of the knife helping to push down against the anger threatening to boil over in her.

Dean lets out a loud laugh and takes a long swig from his beer. “The Johnsons said whoever they hired didn’t even set the concrete properly so it’s slanted.”

Beth shakes her head and adds the garlic to the sauce before tasting it again. It still doesn’t taste as good as when Ruby makes it, but she just can’t place what she forgot even as she glances through her spice rack.

“So I think we need to talk,” Dean says slowly, pushing off the counter to stand next to Beth.

And even though she’d been expecting this ever since she left the dealership that morning, Beth still can’t stop the flash of nerves that sliver up her spine. 

Wiping her palms on her apron she takes a deep breath before meeting Dean’s anxious eyes. “About what?”

Dean glances back out the window at the kids, his eyes following Jane’s headfirst slide into a pile of leaves before he clears his throat. “About what happened earlier.”

Beth probably shouldn’t feel as excited as she does about whatever Dean’s about to tell her, it’s just that she’d honestly thought he’d ignore what had happened and box her out (like he did with all the texts she’d sent that afternoon). 

Maybe whatever happened wasn’t that bad after all.

“I really think we need to get Kenny his own phone, he can’t keep taking mine to play poke-ball or watch those stupid videos.”

“Are you kidding me?” Beth asks sharply, taking a step back to put some distance between her and Dean. 

“I mean he’s almost thirteen Bethie, it’s about time.”

“I’m not talking about Kenny, Dean, or the Cooper’s new pool,” Beth says, the anger she’d been fighting all day taking over as she pulls copies of their bank statements out from under her recipe book and slides them over to Dean. “Do you want to explain to me what this is?”

Beth watches as Dean takes in the papers, his eyes widening when he notices the charges from earlier that day highlighted brightly in pink.

“It’s not what it looks like.”

“So you didn’t take out fifty thousand dollars from our savings account today?” Beth reaches over to pull out a different paper from the pile. “Or twenty thousand three weeks ago?”

Dean scoffs and for the longest time Beth thinks he isn’t going to answer her, that he’s going to keep pretending that he didn’t do anything wrong. 

But then she sees the way his shoulders seem to collapse as if suddenly heavy with the weight of whatever burden he’s placed on their family and she knows she has him.

“Who were those men in your office? This is because of them right?”

“Look I didn’t want to worry you with any of this, okay?” Dean comments, setting his beer bottle down on the papers and reaching up to undo the top button of his shirt. “It’s all just temporary anyway.”

“How is any of this,” Beth starts, waving her hands towards the now wet papers, wincing when she clocks the pink ink bleeding through the pages onto the counter, “temporary? Feels pretty permanent Dean.”

“I made a few bad decisions or bad investments or whatever at work, but I’m taking care of it. People just haven’t been buying cars like they used to.” Brushing past her Dean picks up his beer and settles on the couch. 

Dimly Beth can hear the kitchen timer buzz behind her, but she can’t look away from where Dean is scrolling through his twitter feed, feet resting on their coffee table and condensation from his beer dripping onto the couch.

“What does that even mean? How do a few bad investments turn into two men with _guns_ in your office?”

“I don’t know what you thought you saw this morning, but it’s not that big of a deal,” Dean says and Beth can almost see the wall he’s building go up between them, how hard he’s working to make sure she doesn’t find out what he’s done. “Honestly things like this happen all the time in business, Bethie, you just wouldn’t understand since you’ve never had a job before.”

And she knows that he’s only saying this to push her away, that when he’s backed into a corner Dean’s always been able to chip away at her confidence with a few choice words until she backs down, but she can’t let it work now, not when she knows she isn’t wrong. 

Not after everything she’s found out. 

“Is that right?” Beth murmurs as she pulls down a few plates and walks them over to the dining room table. Her fingers slowly trace the floral pattern printed on the porcelain, following the sweeping vines that used to be so vibrant but were now faded and cracked, and god doesn’t she know what that feels like.

The sound of Dean playing some sports video on his phone breaks her focus and with a sigh Beth moves to pick up the bank papers again before heading into the living room. Pushing his feet off the coffee table, she sits in front of Dean and plucks his cell phone from his hand, quieting the video with a couple clicks and tossing it aside.

“Well maybe you can help me understand some of these other charges then,” Beth says, squaring her shoulders, “because I've never shopped at Angelique’s Lingerie, but it sure seems to be a favorite of yours.” 

And while all the cash withdrawals had been a surprise, the bigger surprise had been the other charges filling their account: lingerie, flowers, jewelry, hotel rooms, restaurants - all going back months, enough that Beth couldn’t even stomach highlighting them all and pointing out how blind she’d been.

“Beth I am so sorry, I swear...” Dean starts only to stop when Beth lifts her hand.

“Just start with the men this morning okay?”

“Alright, alright,” Dean clears his throat, sinking back on the couch, the walls he’d been trying to build earlier crumbled with her revelation. “Things have just been slow lately and people really haven’t been buying cars. Everyone just wants to uber or use those stupid rideshare scooters, you know the ones we keep seeing on the sidewalk near the kids’ school? So Billy, that new salesman from Des Moines, tells me that he knows a guy who can help us get over the slump -”

“Oh my god.”

“It was great, seriously. We only needed a little bit of money, so I met with the guy and next thing I know we’re back in business. But then he shows up in my office a couple weeks ago and says he wants his money back plus interest.”

“How much?”

Her question seems to surprise Dean.

“What?”

“How much money do you owe him? After all of this?” Beth repeats slowly.

“200,000 dollars,” Dean says finally, quietly.

And really after everything, after she’d spent hours that afternoon running through every charge and imagining every worst-case scenario, a weird sense of peace envelops Beth with Dean’s admission. The knowing somehow making everything seem better even though nothing actually was. 

Beth lets out a short laugh. “God, what happened to us?”

“Bethie -”

“No,” Beth says, lifting her hand again when it looks like Dean might move closer to her. “We have four children, did you even think about them when you did this? Did we cross your mind at all when you went to a _gang_ and asked for money?”

“Of course! God, I did this all for you!”

“So what happens now? What happens if you can’t get them their money, Dean? Are they going to come for the dealership? The house?” 

Dean sighs softly. “I don’t know.” 

Behind her, Beth can hear the sound of little feet stomping against the brick of the back patio reminding her of the dinner she’d left unfinished on the stove.

Shaking her head, Beth stands up from the coffee table to head back into the kitchen only to stop short when Dean’s hand grabs her wrist.

“I’m going to take care of this okay? I don’t know how, but I’ll make this right.”

“Well you can start by staying at your mother’s for a few days,” Beth says, forcefully pulling her hand free from Dean’s grasp and moving into the kitchen to turn off the stove timer. 

The couch creaks against Dean’s weight as he stands up, but instead of heading into the kitchen like Beth had expected he starts towards the hallway leading to their bedroom, pausing next to the staircase to look back at Beth with defeated eyes.

“I’m going to figure this out Beth. For you.”

The click of their bedroom door brings a gentle quiet to the house and then there’s nothing to stop the weight of day from finally crashing down on Beth, the tears she’d been fighting back slowly working their way through her body with a hoarse sob. Glancing to her left she notices that at some point the sauce had boiled over, covering the entire stove in a mess of red and brown.

Turning off the burner, Beth picks up the pot and moving to the sink lets it fall shattering Dean’s favorite coffee mug.

\--

It’s the dark and quiet that’s most unsettling to Beth, the entire dealership seemingly shrouded in shadows as she waits, her eyes frantically watching for any movement on the lot from the safety of Dean’s office.

They were late. 

At least they were late if they were actually coming at all, she thinks, resisting the urge to sigh when she checks the time on her watch again.

In the end there were only ever two choices. 

She could let Dean fail. Make him go back to those men without the money and risk whatever fallout would come from being short. 

And it’d been tempting if she was being honest, to let Dean finally accept responsibility for something he’d done.

But it wasn’t that easy, things with Dean never were.

Because even in defeat he’d still be able to pull her down in the dirt with him and without him, _without the dealership_ , there was no way she could really take care of her family. Even if she could, there was no promise that those men still wouldn’t come after her or their house or their kids when Dean failed to deliver.

No, this was her only choice.

Beth sighs softly, her hands reaching up to shrug out of her blazer before undoing the top few buttons of her dress, the coolness of the night air hitting her skin and letting her feel like she can finally relax against the heat of her nerves.

Maybe she’d messaged the wrong person? 

Once she’d actually made her choice it had been harder than she thought to track down whoever Dean had made his deal with, the entire process making Beth more bitter the longer she went without finding a name or phone number.

She eventually had to pocket Dean’s phone the afternoon before when he’d stopped by to grab more clothes, finally realizing that his stay at his mother’s would be longer than he had originally hoped.

And really after everything she’d half-expected that he would be dumb enough to have whoever’s contact information saved under _Gang Leader_ or even _Person I Owe A Lot Of Money To_ (his passcode was 1234 after all) but when that had left her empty-handed again, Beth was almost ready to throw in the towel when a text caught her eye.

At first it hadn’t seemed like anything, just an unsaved number confirming the details of a meeting that could have been for any number of things. 

But Beth knew. 

Deep down she knew that this wasn’t just some random customer scheduling an appointment to look at a used minivan.

It was only after a few glasses of bourbon that Beth was able to send the message, just a couple words moving up the next meeting appearing in a blue box before she could talk herself out of it. The ellipses of the person’s response rising and falling almost immediately despite the late hour and then it was done, a single _fine_ sent back to her.

But now they were late.

Across the street a blinking neon light advertising same-day dry cleaning flicks off enveloping the block in darkness. Shaking her head slightly Beth tries to ignore the knot growing in her stomach that her plan had failed, that she’d failed, when a soft thud behind her breaks the silence of the office.

Glancing over her shoulder Beth meets the eyes of a man leaning against the office’s door frame, one leg crossed in front of the other as he watches her. 

Turning quickly to face him Beth eyes the blazer now laying on the file cabinet next to her longingly before dropping her hands to pull lightly on the hem of her skirt. It had been a last-minute addition to her outfit, an attempt to make her dress seem less feminine or less naive and now without it she feels too vulnerable, like she’s gone into battle without her armor.

The man’s eyes clock her movement, dragging down then back up her body lazily, a small smirk tugging at his lips. 

“Didn’t know there’d been a change of management ‘round here.”

He pushes off the doorway to step deeper into the office, brushing his fingertips along the edge of a framed family portrait on the desk before dropping to sit in one of the chairs.

And Beth’s not quite sure who she thought would show up tonight, but it’s definitely not the man in front of her now. He’s younger than she expected, only a couple years younger than her and dressed in a fitted dark denim jacket and black jeans, the low light of the office doing little to hide the strong line of his jaw or the shadow of his long eyelashes against his cheekbones. 

It was only the large tattoo spanning his lean neck, some kind of hawk or eagle in flight Beth thinks, that hinted at something different than the rest of his put-together appearance, something predatory. 

Clearing her throat softly, Beth forces her eyes away from the dark lines decorating his throat to meet the man’s expectant eyes again, ignoring the flicker of whatever was beginning to coil deep inside her.

“So what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Well it’s come to my attention that my husband may have made certain arrangements with you and your friends,” Beth says, her thumb lifting to play with her wedding bands, a nervous habit she’d never been able to break, before remembering they were now tucked away in her jewelry box at home.

The man lets out a breathy chuckle. “You ain’t gettin’ more time if that’s what this is about.”

“No, actually I have a business proposition for you,” Beth replies, squaring her shoulders at the man’s unamused expression. “Let me work off his debt to you.”

His gaze immediately drops to her chest where thanks to the few buttons she’d undone earlier the pale skin of her decolletage and the edge of her black lace bra were on display. 

“No offense or nothing, but you ain’t exactly my type,” he drawls, his eyes slowly drifting back to her face. “A little too Desperate Housewives you know.” 

“God I didn’t mean _that_ ,” Beth hisses, turning to slide her blazer back on despite the warm blush spreading through her body before meeting his gaze again.

The man arches both of his eyebrows at Beth and she really shouldn’t be this affected - not by him or his saying she wasn’t his type. 

“There must be a more appropriate way I could work to pay off Dean’s debt,” Beth says. She glances out to the empty showroom as she struggles to think of something she could do for this man besides well _that_ , only it’s not empty anymore. The two men she’d seen in Dean’s office that morning are milling around the space, their tattoos unmistakable even in the low light.

“What about that?” Beth asks, gesturing awkwardly towards the showroom. “I could help with whatever they’re doing or whatever else they do for you.”

“Is that so? Yeah somehow I doubt that, but thanks for the offer,” he says after a pause and she swears she sees the hint of an amused smile pulling at his full lips but then he’s dragging a black beanie from his jacket pocket and tugging it on his head. “Tell that husband of yours he’s still got two days to get me my money darlin’.”

He’s halfway to the door before Beth even realizes what’s happening, jumping out of her own chair and rushing around the desk to place a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Wait,” Beth pleas, breathlessly.

This close to him she can make out the faint smell of his aftershave and the fine dusting of stubble along his jaw that’s flirting with becoming a full beard. And for a second she lets whatever heat is building in her take over, wonders if those dark hairs would be as soft as they looked against her fingertips, if it would be soft dragging along other places. 

Dean had never been able to grow any facial hair.

“You know I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I really don’t got time for this shit.”

“Just wait okay,” Beth says, hoping her voice doesn’t sound as pitiful as it feels. 

Her eyes leave his face and follow the two men still meandering around the showroom. She can’t let him leave yet, not without some kind of deal, not without some way of saving her family.

The man scoffs quietly and Beth knows she’s running out of time. Maybe if she had a few more tattoos she’d be in luck she thinks absently or a penchant for oversized black hoodies, then she could blend in with ...

“Maybe I’m not your type but you need me.” It comes out hesitantly, like even she can’t believe she’s actually saying it out loud. 

“I need you? Baby, do you even know what I do?”

“No, but based on your associates out there and your colorful description of me I’d bet you don’t have anyone like me in your operation,” Beth remarks, lifting her chin to better look at the man. 

“And what makes you think I need you?” he asks.

“I think I can be an asset,” Beth starts, trying to ignore the darkness that seems to be spreading across his features. “How often do you and your friends get stopped in your current system? Let me work for you and I can guarantee that will disappear. I mean no one ever looks twice at the white suburban mom running errands in her minivan. I’m basically invisible.”

 _I’ve been invisible for years_ she wants to say, her eyes drifting back to the family portrait the man had touched when he walked in and the fake smile she sees on her past self’s face. 

Beth watches as the man thinks over her words, his jaw working back and forth as he looks out over the showroom before turning his gaze back to her. 

And she honestly can’t think of the last time a man had looked at her like this, like she wasn’t just another pretty face or a wife of too many years. His brown eyes meet her blue and she can almost feel him trying to peel back her layers to figure out what makes her tick, if she was worth the risk, if she could do what she was claiming.

If she was enough.

“A’ight we’ll give it a try,” he says finally, definitively, pulling his phone from his back pocket and starting to type out something, the movement making Beth realize that she was still clutching his arm and she slowly lets her hand fall back gently to her side. “Someone’ll be ‘round in a couple days to pick you up.”

Then he’s gone, pausing for a moment in the showroom to look over his shoulder and add, “We’ll see you real soon, yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look I know there's a lot of Dean in this chapter - BUT it had to happen for plot reasons. Trust me he is not going to be sticking around this fic for much longer (unlike in the actual show).
> 
> And a massive thanks to my friends civillove and fortunehasgivenup for dealing with my many dramatic episodes while writing this fic - I'm sorry for all the things I said in my anguish haha 
> 
> Come say hi at medievalraven.tumblr.com


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m sorry, you did what?”

Beth sighs quietly, turning away from Ruby to fix the platter of food for girls night, making sure the camembert is still warm and that there are enough vegetables and bread for dipping. 

It had been two days since that night in the dealership and the man’s promise that they’d see each other soon, time dragging on and on as Beth waited to find out anything about what she was going to do.

And it wasn’t like she actually expected them to keep normal business hours, but she had expected _something_. It wasn’t like they had been that patient with Dean when he’d been late paying them back. 

“I’m sorry are we being punk’d right now?” Annie jokes, pushing aside the kids lunchboxes to sit on the counter next to Beth. “Is Ashton Kutcher waiting for me to start crying so he can jump out and tell us that this is some weird prank?” 

Beth rolls her eyes, turning to set the wooden tray on the kitchen island before picking up her own glass of wine. “What was I supposed to do? Just let those men take the dealership or hurt Dean?”

“Oh no not Deansie,” Annie mutters, almost falling off the counter as she reached over to grab a piece of bread and dip it into the cheese.

“I don’t know, maybe you go to the police?” Ruby says sharply, shaking her head.

“And say what? I can’t exactly walk in there and tell them that my husb-” Beth pauses suddenly and takes in a deep breath, running her finger around the rim of her glass, “that Dean made a deal with a gang and now they want to kill us because we can’t pay them back.”

“Well it’s a better idea than offering to work for the men with _guns_ that enjoy threatening people in the middle of a car dealership.”

And Beth gets it, she does, because she knows why Ruby’s upset. 

It’s just that things have always been black and white for Ruby, a mindset shaped thanks to a childhood spent sitting in a pew on Sundays listening to aging pastors preach about heaven and hell, good and evil, right and wrong. 

But for Beth, her life had always existed in this sort of grey area, a place dominated by blurred lines and what-ifs that left her up at night while Dean snored next to her, oblivious. 

And she couldn’t let this be just another what-if in a long line of almosts and maybes, she couldn’t sit by knowing that she hadn’t done absolutely everything she could to make sure her family would be fine. 

Even if it meant working for a gang.

“Wait a second, are you telling me this isn’t some kind of really unfunny joke?” Annie asks. 

“Nope, your sister here decided it would be a great idea to try her hand at a life of crime,” Ruby says, shooting a pointed look at Beth.

Annie laughs, the wine in her glass almost spilling when she bends over to catch her breath.

“I’m sorry, but you actually had the chance to let a gang “take care” of Dean,” Annie starts, dropping her wine glass to rest between her thighs so she could make a show of using air quotes, “and instead you chose to bail him out _again_ for the millionth time?”

“He’s still the father of my children Annie,” Beth says cooly.

“Sure, when it’s convenient for him,” Annie comments. “God Beth, the man cheats on you _and_ manages to get into cahoots with a gang without telling you and you’re still bending over backwards to help him?”

Beth feels the sting of tears pearling in the corner of her eyes. Because even though she knows Annie’s right, it doesn’t stop the pain of what Dean had done from creeping back in and making her lose her breath, doesn’t stop the voice in her head from reminding her that she wasn’t enough for him.

Annie reaches out to brush a tear off Beth’s cheek and offers her a soft smile that lets Beth know she hadn’t meant to hurt her despite the truth of her words. 

“You know there are easier ways for you to get money though. I mean Fine and Frugal is always hiring and it really isn’t that bad if you can get past the smell of unfulfilled potential and weed.”

Beth can’t stop the too loud chuckle from blooming in her chest, thankful, not for the first time, for Annie’s ability to lighten a mood.

“That sounds like a great alternative, Annie,” Ruby says, letting out an exaggerated shiver.

“Well I’m not saying it’s better than working for a gang, but we do get a five percent discount on all baked goods,” Annie replies, sliding down the counter to refill her wine.

The image of the tattooed man sitting her down to explain benefit packages and job perks flashes in Beth’s head and it’s enough to make her laugh again, louder, bringing Ruby’s focus back to her.

“Seriously though, you know you didn’t have to do this?”

“I did,” Beth replies, curling her fingers around the edge of the marble countertop and letting the cool stone ground her. “What would you do if it meant that Sara could get her surgery? Or so Ben could get his hormone treatments? I’m not doing this for Dean, okay? I’m doing this for my kids and I have no regrets about that.”

Beth turns slightly to hide her tears again, lets her eyes follow the now fuzzy lines of a rainbow Kenny had painted when he was in pre-school that was still hanging on the wall next to the laundry room. It’s only when she hears Ruby’s chair scrape against the floor that she looks back and sees Ruby round the island to pull her into a hug.

And maybe in that moment Ruby’s world is a little less black and white.

“Alright, but the second you feel uncomfortable or they ask you do anything sketchy, you call us and I’ll make sure Stan takes care of it. Do you understand me?”

Beth nods against Ruby’s shoulder and Ruby pulls her in a little tighter before she lets out her own unsteady breath and leans back to rest against the counter.

“Not to interrupt this precious moment or anything, but what are you even going to do? No offense sis but you don’t exactly have a lot of the skills that gangs are looking for,” Annie comments.

Beth shrugs, but honestly she’d been asking herself the same question ever since that man had agreed to her proposal.

Those men with him had been like some kind of tattooed bodyguards, but she doubted that’s what they would have her do. And really, now, when she’d actually had some time to think about what she had offered, she realizes that maybe it wasn’t the smartest decision to just casually propose that she be their answer to avoiding the police or whoever for whatever they needed.

It’s just that it all happened too quickly. 

She didn’t even think to ask for the man’s name until it was too late and he was gone.

“Well if you can’t win them over with your lemon squares,” Annie starts, a wicked smile spreading across her face, ”I think I know something else you can do. Say when was the last time you got waxed?”

“Could you take this seriously?” Ruby scolds.

“What?! It’s a valid question!”

Beth’s cheeks feel like they’re on fire as she watches Annie wiggle her eyebrows before making a show of poking the index finger of her left hand into the half-open fist of her right. Ruby squawks, her eyes widening at the lewd gesture before she reaches over to smack Annie’s hands and Beth’s sure her face is the same color of the wine.

Then suddenly it’s not Annie and Ruby fighting in front of her, but that man smirking while he says Beth isn’t his type, that man hovering above her as he takes his time driving her right to the edge of pleasure, his eagle tattoo glistening with sweat as he finds his own release.

“Okay, are we going to watch Housewives or not?” Beth asks, voice shaky, picking up the tray of food and walking over to the TV room to settle on the edge of the loveseat. 

“Wait, I have one more question,” Annie says, dropping to sit next to Beth on the couch. “This guy you’re going to be working for, are we talking like a James Gandolfini, Al Pacino, or Cillian Murphy?” 

“Seriously Annie?! What is wrong with you?” Ruby chides, smacking her arm.

“Do you know how much better my job would be if I had a hot boss and not Boomer?” Annie jokes, taking a sip of her wine. “And hey, maybe I’m thinking of changing careers.”

The conversation drifts off from there, Ruby and Annie’s bickering changing into which housewife has had plastic surgery and whose purse is the most expensive. Beth tries to follow along, pretends to care when they reveal Luann’s husband Tom is cheating, but it’s still not enough to stop her thoughts from drifting back to the night at the dealership and that man.

\--

The house is almost too quiet when Beth finally wakes up the next morning.

No feet stomping on the floor above her, no little voices yelling about breakfast and missing toys, nothing except the sound of Buddy’s whimpers begging for food outside her door.

And while there was a small part of Beth that had desperately wanted the chance to wake up to a quiet house, now the silence just made the dull throbbing behind her eyes feel even worse.

She’d sent the kids to stay with Dean at his mother’s as soon as she’d gotten home from the dealership, the last thing she needed was Jane or Danny finding those men with their guns and tattoos waiting in the kitchen to take Beth to do whatever they wanted.

It was too risky and Beth knew it was the right call, but it still didn’t stop the loneliness from slowly creeping in and making a home in her chest, the pain getting stronger with each day that passed.

It was the reason she’d asked Annie to spend the night, even if Annie’s tossing and turning left her wide awake for hours.

In the hall Buddy’s whimpers turn to barks and Beth groans, pushing back the comforter and picking up a beaded throw pillow that Annie must have knocked off at some point in the night.

The scent of coffee hits her as soon as she opens the door, something rich in chicory and caramel that makes her hangover lessen for a minute.

“God, that smells amazing,” Beth says with a yawn, bending to pick up a few of the kids toys lining the hallway into the kitchen. “Please tell me there’s enough for me too.”

A rumbling chuckle fills the space. “Yeah you need a cup, sweetheart?”

One of Danny’s toy cars falls out of Beth’s arms and clatters to the ground before rolling to a stop against the bookcase. 

“Where’s Annie?” Beth asks, moving slowly towards the kitchen, her eyes following the long lines of the man’s back perched on one of the stools lining the island.

“Oh don’t worry, she had to leave to get her son,” the man says. “She left a note for ya.”

Beth pauses next to the couch when the man shifts in his seat to keep her in his eyesight, the light streaming in from the kitchen window cutting across his sharp cheekbones and highlighting the angles of his profile. 

“What do you want?” 

“Don’t tell me you already forgot about our little arrangement,” the man drawls, a pleased sound rumbling out of his chest when he clocks her old pajamas. “Unless you don’t need the money anymore.”

The man’s gaze drags down Beth’s frame and she can almost feel the lazy heat of it as he takes in her sleep mussed hair and the remnants of yesterday’s mascara caked under her eyes.

A flash of something hot grows in Beth’s chest when she catches a glimpse of his eagle tattoo in the light, her mind going back to those thoughts she’d had of them wrapped up in each other, of his hands on her hips, his lips on her neck.

But then she sees the crumbled newspaper open next to his cup of coffee, the steam still billowing out of Dean’s chipped #1 dad mug, and then all she feels is anger coursing through her veins.

“I’ve been waiting except you never showed up,” Beth says forcefully, ignoring the way the man’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead at her words.

“Oh did you miss me?” he laughs.

“No --, I definitely didn’t --, I mean --,” Beth starts, flustered, moving to pick up the man’s coffee cup and drop it in the sink next to the wine glasses she’d never gotten around to rinsing. “I just assumed you would’ve wanted me to start working for you immediately.”

“Yeah this ain’t exactly like driving for Uber, darlin’.”

And she knows he doesn’t mean it as an insult, but it’s still enough to make her feel off-balance and annoyed at how easily he can dismiss her after she’d spent so much time thinking about this arrangement, about him. 

“Clearly,” Beth says, voice almost too sweet. “And you can’t just show up here whenever you want. What if my husband or children saw you?”

“Is that right?” The man stands slowly, taking a few steps towards Beth, close enough that she can make out the faint scent of fabric softener clinging to his hoodie. His eyes find hers and it’s so different from the last time, when he’d been trying to decide if she was worth it. “Yeah, see I don’t think we gotta worry about that.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean those kids are still at grandma’s right? Same as that dumbass husband of yours.”

And it’s as if time slows down, the man’s words burrowing under her skin and making her blood run cold. Beth opens and closes her mouth a couple times, trying to wrap her head around the fact that he’s been watching her, watching her kids.

The man lets out a self-satisfied hum before lifting his chin towards the dining room. “Yeah so Demon here will bring you in once you’re ready.”

Beth turns her head slightly to follow his gaze only to see one of the men from Dean’s office sitting at her dining room table, a cup of coffee resting next to him as he scrolls through his phone.

“Unless you’re good now?” he adds, gesturing vaguely towards Beth’s pajamas and slippers.

Beth tugs her robe closed quickly, her hands shaky under the man’s scrutiny. “I need a few minutes.” 

He chuckles and for a second Beth thinks he’s going to reach out to grab the tie of her robe before he shifts and picks up the newspaper on the counter instead, his shoes squeaking against the tile as he heads towards the door. 

“Thanks for the coffee yeah?”

\--

Unlike his boss, Demon at least seemed to be a bit more accommodating. After another quick cup of coffee, he too moved towards the side door before letting Beth know he’d be back in thirty minutes to pick her up.

And really it was more time than Beth was used to in the mornings anyway, but after a quick shower she found herself standing in the middle of her closet unsure what to wear.

Both Demon and her new boss had been wearing jeans and lightweight hoodies despite the chill that came with a Detroit fall. Maybe that was the company uniform, Beth thought absently, pulling out her favorite pink hoodie and shaking out the wrinkles.

But that was before Demon came back and took one look at her heeled boots and actually laughed out loud, ushering her out to his car before Beth could even think about changing.

They’d been driving for almost ten minutes before Demon finally breaks the silence, the deep timbre of his voice startling Beth from where she’d been watching her sleepy suburb slowly fade into the old industrial district.

“I need your phone.”

“Excuse me?” Beth asks, shifting in her seat until her shoulder pressed into the door and she could fully take in Demon.

“Your phone,” Demon repeats, nodding his head towards the cup holder between them. “You can put it there for now.”

Beth slides her cell out of her back pocket and runs her thumb across a small crack in the corner of glass. She bends forward to drop the phone in the cup holder but at the last second she pauses, turning instead to look back at Demon.

“Why do you need my phone?”

Demon rolls his eyes, reaching out to grab the phone from Beth’s grip, the movement making the screen light up with the long line of texts Annie had apparently sent before it disappears into the front pocket of his flannel shirt.

Beth slumps back against the door and runs her hands against her jeans, ignoring the growing pit of anxiety in her stomach. Because this was normal right? There had to be a million reasons why he would take her phone.

But then Demon leans forward to adjust the rear-view window and all Beth can see is the handle of his gun where it’s tucked into his pants. Then there’s only one reason running through her head why he took her phone. 

Because, shit, how could she have been so naive? Was there ever actually a job or was this all just some twisted joke before they killed her? 

Why didn’t she think to text Ruby or Annie before she got in the car with this man? Why did she even do this?

And, well, she knows why she did it, knows that in that moment it was the only way she could protect her kids. But it doesn’t make any of this any better.

She looks out the window again and tries to see if she can find someone, _anyone_ , who could help, but there’s no one. No cars, no people, just abandoned warehouses that had clearly seen better times.

They finally come to a stop outside what must have been an old manufacturing plant and Demon’s out of the car before Beth even realizes what’s happening, motioning for her to follow him inside.

“This way.”

It’s gotten colder since they left her house and as she walks towards the building Beth wishes she’d at least put on a thicker jacket, not that it mattered now. She just hopes that they don’t go after Dean too, that she’s enough and her kids won’t have to lose both parents.

Demon leads Beth through a rusty side door that empties into a dark hallway cast in shadows, the only light flickering on and off and making Beth feel like she was in a horror movie, then he guides her through another door.

And it takes her eyes a minute to adjust to the sudden brightness from the harsh fluorescent light stands propped around the massive space, but when they do all she can see is people, people and money?

Beth follows Demon further into the room, passing a few pallets of what looks like one hundred dollar bills wrapped in plastic and people pulling single bills from what has to be clothes dryers. 

So this is what they do, she wonders, her nerves still electric, they make money? 

And, honestly, she had been expecting drugs, had prepared herself for that, but money was so much better. Makes sense even given how easily they’d been able to lend Dean that much money for the dealership.

Demon stops suddenly next to a small wooden table and gestures for Beth to take a seat.

“Alright, so you’re gonna be responsible for cash bundles. All you gotta do is make a stack of 100 and wrap it with a red band,” Demon says, nodding towards the pile of rubber bands in the center of the table before bending over to drop a handful of bills in front of Beth. “Finished stacks go over in that box. Got it?”

Beth nods, reaching out to touch a couple of the loose twenties.

“You need more cash you go get it from Cisco at the dryers,” Demon adds. “Other than that you don’t move from this table and I’ll be back later to take you home.”

Beth sighs, watching as Demon heads out into the warehouse to help some other men unload a shipping container before she picks up one of the bills and runs her thumb across the front, letting the lingering heat from the dryers warm her skin against the dampness of the room.

And she could do this, Beth thinks, counting out some bills and making her first pile, how hard could it possibly be?

“That’s not tight enough.”

Beth looks up, letting the bills fall back on the table, and meets the eyes of a woman with long curly brown hair sitting across from her.

“I’m sorry?” 

“You need to make sure the bills are stacked tightly,” the woman repeats, leaning over to smooth out a few of the bills in Beth’s pile. “See how all the edges aren’t lining up? Yeah, that shit drives Rio crazy.”

_Rio._

So that was his name. 

“Thanks,” Beth replies, letting out a soft chuckle as she picks up a few more bills. “Guess I’m still getting the hang of it.”

“You’ll get there, don’t worry,” the woman says going back to her own bundles. “I’m Marisol by the way.”

“Beth.”

“Okay, so I have to ask, how’d you get roped into all this anyway? No offense, but this doesn’t really seem like your scene,” Marisol comments, her eyes dropping to take in the strand of pearls around Beth’s neck.

Beth pauses, her hand stopping short from where she’d been reaching for a band to tie around her next bundle, because Marisol isn’t exactly who she’d expect to find here either. She has to have at least ten years on Beth and the smile lines on her face betray the toughness of her voice.

“It’s a long story.”

Marisol laughs, smacking her pile of bills loudly against the table a few times. “Aren’t they all?”

“What about you? Have you worked for Rio long?”

“Yeah, Mari and I go way back, don’t we?”

Beth freezes as the man, _Rio_ , moves from behind her to stand next to the table, picking up the only bundle she’d managed to finish. He flicks through the bills, fixing a couple that aren’t quite lined up with the others before nodding when they finally pass his inspection.

“Did you need something?” Marisol asks, grabbing the bills out of Rio’s hand and placing it back on the table. 

“Just wanted to make sure Elizabeth here was settlin’ in alright. First day and all, we gotta make sure she’s a good fit,” Rio says, his gaze sliding from the money to take in Beth, smirking when he clocks her pink sweatshirt. 

Reaching up to push a stray piece of hair behind her ear, Beth sits up a little straighter before picking up a new pile of bills. “I’m fine, thank you.”

A soft hum escapes Rio as he watches her slowly organize the money. “Is that right?”

Across the warehouse one of the rolling doorways opens loudly and the noise finally breaks Rio’s focus on her. Shaking his head he turns to take in the new delivery for a moment before his hand reaches out to rest on Beth’s arm. 

“A’ight then I guess you won’t have any problem fillin’ four boxes today huh?” Rio says, nodding towards the box resting next to Beth.

“Rio - “ Marisol starts before Beth interrupts her.

“No, it’s okay,” Beth comments. “Anything you want, boss.”

Rio chuckles, gently squeezing Beth’s arm before heading to greet whoever had just arrived.

Picking up the bundle Rio had been playing with, Beth sighs and tosses it into the mostly empty box, ignoring the heat that was spreading down her arm from where he’d touched her, the firm press of his rings against her softness.

“Look it’s none of my business, but you seem like a nice lady and I would hate to see you get involved in this if you didn’t have to be.”

Beth blinks up at Marisol and shrugs.

“Trust me, I’m tougher than I look.”

And maybe Rio didn’t think that, maybe Marisol didn’t, but she could do this.

She had to.

\--

It takes her hours, but in the end Beth manages to fill those four boxes with bundled fake cash just like Rio had requested. Even Demon had seemed impressed when he saw all the boxes packed perfectly, letting out a slow whistle before he passed Beth her phone.

Beth just wishes that she could have seen Rio’s face when he found out that she’d actually done it, that she proved him wrong.

But he’d left the warehouse not too long after their conversation and he still wasn’t back by the time Demon showed up to take her home. 

Which was fine, really, because she’s sure that he’ll give her some new job tomorrow, something he no doubt thinks is too hard for her, and then she can see the look on his face when she finishes that one too. 

And she’s in the middle of texting Annie and Ruby just that, her fingers flying across the screen as she toes off her boots, when she notices Dean sitting on the same bar stool that Rio had earlier that morning, a few small pieces of the chocolate cake she’d baked for Emma’s class pageant later that week sitting on a plate in front of him.

Beth stops in the entryway, waiting to see if he would acknowledge her, but he doesn’t even look up from his phone and it would be so easy to just slip into her bedroom and hope he doesn’t stick around too long.

Or it would be easy if her phone didn’t chirp thanks to Annie sending a string of emojis that make no absolutely sense to Beth, the noise startling Dean and making him turn to see Beth.

"Hey!"

Beth sighs, resigned, moving into the kitchen to wash the ink off her hands from the fake cash. 

“Everything alright with the kids?”

“What?” Dean mumbles, running his finger along the plate to pick up some frosting. “Yeah, no, they’re fine, I just stopped by to pick up something I forgot.”

Beth nods, walking over to her baking cabinet to check if she had enough ingredients to remake the cake and groaning when she realized she was out of gluten-free flour. And while she might not be afraid of standing up to Rio, she definitely didn’t want to deal with the other PTA moms if they found out she hadn’t made a gluten-free cake.

“Well I have to run a couple errands, but I’ll call later to do the kids’ night routine,” Beth says, grabbing her reusable grocery bags from under the sink and heading towards the side door.

And she’s almost gone when she hears Dean laugh behind her. “You know I had an interesting meeting today.”

“Did you finally sell the Corvette?” Beth jokes.

“I wish,” Dean says with a humorless chuckle, pushing his now empty plate across the island to rest his arm on the counter. “Why’d you do it, Bethie? I said I was going to handle it!”

It takes her a second to figure out what Dean’s talking about, her mind too busy bouncing between the high of the warehouse that morning and the list of things she needed to pick up at the store. But then it all clicks into place - why Dean’s mad, where Rio went that morning, everything.

“I did it to protect _my_ family," Beth bites out. "How were you going to handle it, Dean? You already cleaned out our savings.”

Dean bristles, standing up so swiftly to move closer to Beth that the stool almost topples over.

“I had a plan, okay? Do you know how embarrassing it was to find out that you’d offered yourself up to this gang from a guy with a neck tat?”

“Probably about as embarrassing as having your credit card declined for nine dollars,” Beth says, stepping away from the door, and Dean, to pick up his forgotten plate and put it in the dishwasher.

“Look, I know you think you’re helping, but you have no idea what kind of people you’re dealing with here. Those guys are dangerous and I don’t want them taking advantage of you.”

Beth scoffs, leaning back against the counter before meeting Dean’s eyes again. “Well it wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”

“I deserved that,” Dean mumbles, walking over to Beth and putting his hand on her forearm. “But this isn’t like when Penny Cooper ran against you for class mom, these guys are dangerous. God Beth, they threatened to shoot me!” 

And it’s the wrong thing to focus on, but in that moment the only thing Beth can think about is how she can’t remember the last time Dean had actually touched her like this, how he’d pulled away after Jane was born when all she wanted was her husband by her side, how he left her alone.

Taking a step back, Beth lets Dean’s hand fall heavy from her arm.

“Well maybe they should have,” Beth says, moving to open the side door. “I think it’s time you left.”

“Beth -”

“You can send the kids home, but I think it’s best if you stay at your mother’s a little longer,” she adds, pushing the door open just a little wider when it looks like Dean isn’t going to leave.

Dean shakes his head, picking up a duffel bag before heading out the door. 

“I know you think you’re doing the right thing, but you need to be careful okay? These guys won’t hesitate to toss you aside if they think you aren’t useful anymore.”

“Like you did?” Beth asks, savoring the look of surprise on Dean’s face. “Have a good night Dean.”

She waits until she hears his car start and pull out of the driveway before reaching out to pick up her reusable bags and keys. And right, gluten-free flour, she should have just enough time to handle that before the kids came home.

—

For all of Dean’s warnings, it’s almost too easy for Beth to settle into this new routine.

The long drives with Demon to and from the warehouse, counting money with Marisol and the other women, even negotiating with Cisco for more cash while he acts like she can’t handle it.

Annie had laughed when she told her that it didn’t even feel she was doing anything illegal, like she was just working some kind of weird retail job, but it was the truth. 

And in hindsight, she probably should have known it was really too good to be true.

Demon’s beat-up Chevy isn’t waiting outside when Beth finally stumbles out onto her front porch. It’s a little later in the morning than her normal pick-up time, but he’d been very clear the afternoon before that something had come up and she wasn’t needed quite as early.

Beth looks down the street to see if she can spot his car, but there’s only a black sedan turning at the stop sign. It isn’t like Demon to be late though. Turning back to lock the door, she carefully shifts the cups of coffee and bag of muffins she’d been holding to one arm as she digs for her keys.

“Need a hand, darlin’?”

The lock finally clicks and Beth takes a deep breath before glancing over her shoulder to see Rio leaning against the passenger side door of what must be his black cadillac. 

“I’d have thought you were too important to play chauffeur,” Beth comments, sliding her keys back into her pocket.

And it’d been weeks since she’d talked to him, really talked to him like that first day. She’d seen him around the warehouse, heard his voice above the rumble of the dryers as he made sure everything was to his standards, but he hadn’t stopped by to check on her again, all his increasingly demanding directions coming from Demon instead.

Not that it bothered Beth. Really it was better without him around. 

Rio grins, tilting his head towards the bag Beth was still pressing into her chest.

“You bring enough to share with the class?”

Beth looks down at the now-crumpled bag and rolls her eyes. The muffins were a new recipe she’d been toying with and Demon had jumped at the opportunity to try them out when she’d mentioned them on the drive to the warehouse earlier in the week. 

“Just make sure to leave one for Demon.”

“Oh you two best friends now?” Rio asks, meeting Beth halfway up the walkway and plucking the bag and a coffee out of her grasp.

He steps back and opens the passenger door, arching his eyebrows when Beth doesn’t immediately move to get in and really it isn’t like she has another option since they refuse to let her drive herself to the warehouse.

The door closes with a soft thud and Beth uses her few moments alone to take in the immaculate interior of the car, feel the softness of the leather seats against her fingertips as she reaches for her seat-belt. 

“So I got a little bit of a different assignment for you today,” Rio says, pulling out of Beth's neighborhood and turning towards downtown.

“What kind of assignment?” Beth asks hesitantly.

There’s a brief pause as Rio’s gaze shifts to take in Beth before flicking back to the road. “Just something I think you could help with.”

“Is it more money?” 

Rio scoffs, flipping on his turn signal. “You always got so many questions, sweetheart?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t ask so many questions if you just told me what you want me to do,” Beth says, resisting the urge to slouch into the seat at his dismissal. 

“Well you ain’t exactly proven yourself capable of trust yet.”

The car finally comes to a stop and Beth looks away from where Rio’s hand is gripping the gear shift between them to take in a shopping mall she’d didn’t even realize was in this part of town. 

And there’s something about the name, she thinks, studying the chipped sign above the entrance, like she’d heard someone talk about it before but can’t remember who it was or why.

“A’ight so I’m gonna need you to meet someone for me,” Rio says, dropping a hot pink-striped bag on Beth’s lap.

Beth’s eyes follow the curved lines of the embossed _VS_ on the front of the bag, willing away the blush she can feel heating up her cheeks and chest.

“I don’t know what you thought I’d do for you,” Beth starts, her voice smaller than she’d like, “but I’m not for sale or someone you can just use like that.”

Rio huffs, his jaw rocking back then forward before he finally shakes his head. 

“Yeah this ain’t that. All you gotta do is take that bag there and exchange it with a colleague for a different bag.”

“That’s it?” Beth asks, pulling back the tissue paper to see a pile of bills nestled in the bag. “And why exactly do you need me to do this?”

“Weren’t you the one that told me you was invisible? That I needed you for this shit? This is you living up to your promises.”

Looking back at the mall entrance, Beth watches as an elderly couple exits to the parking lot, the tire of the man’s wheelchair getting stuck along the curb before they’re finally able to reach their car.

“Fine,” Beth sighs, “what exactly do I need to do?”

“Just wait by the benches outside the food court for a person with a white bag. They’ll be lookin’ for you too and then all you have to do is trade off and come back here. Don’t talk to anyone else and don’t open the white bag,” Rio says.

“But what if something happens?”

A predatory smile spreads across Rio’s face before he unlocks the car doors, the noise so loud Beth swears she can feel it in her bones. “Yeah you should get goin’, don’t want to be late and whatnot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you times a million to the amazing fortunehasgiven up who beta'd this chapter and basically forced me to hit publish when I was being dramatic. 
> 
> And thank you to everyone who reads, kudos, and comments - it means more than I can ever say! I'm trying to get these chapters out as quickly as I can, but life you know? So hopefully chapter three will be posted in about two weeks.
> 
> Come say hi or yell at me about brio at medievalraven.tumblr.com!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on "In The Dark": Beth begins working for Rio in his warehouse organizing money and surprises everyone with how good she actually is at it, Beth and Dean have an argument where Dean implies that Beth is just being manipulated by Rio/the gang and that she won't be able to stand up to them, Rio shows up at Beth's house to take Beth on a special "job" where she has to do a drop at a mall (she's given a Victoria's Secret bag to exchange for a white bag), Rio also steals the muffins that Beth had made for her new BFF Demon (who I refuse to call Mick).

Beth was no stranger to malls.

There was the one on Pine that had been like a second home in high school after she and Ruby had claimed a table in the food court as their own for homework and everything else.

And the one with the good play-place in Ashfield that she’d been taking her kids to since it was just her and Kenny. 

But as soon as she walks into this one, with it’s chipped tiles and water-stained ceiling tiles, Beth feels like she’s been thrown in the deep end without anyone to save her.

There’s more people than she expected and she has to dodge a couple senior citizens doing their laps as she slowly heads towards the bench where the trade-off is supposed to happen. 

And it’s almost funny, Beth thinks, smiling at a young mother pushing her toddler in a stroller as they pass by, how she’s never going to look at any mall the same again, how she’s probably always going to wonder what’s actually hiding underneath the tissue paper in all these bags.

Settling on the edge of the bench, she takes a deep breath then looking around to make sure no one is watching her sets the bag on the ground next to her feet, wincing when a piece of rough wood snags the sleeve of her blouse.

Her fingers pull on the now loose piece of thread, checking to see if she could fix it later when she got home. It didn’t look too bad, she could probably just trim it and then - 

“Excuse me ma’am? Is that your bag?”

Beth freezes, her body still half-folded over her arm, as a pair of black shoes stop right in front of her.

“Ma’am?”

Closing her eyes, she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, trying to use the small time she had to come up with any kind of explanation why there was a bag full of money sitting next to her.

“I’m sorry but what seems to be the problem... Stan?”

“Got you, didn’t I?” Stan says, grinning.

“I didn’t realize you worked here,” Beth comments, standing to hug Stan, her heart swelling when she clocks the crisp pleats in his pants that she just knows Ruby had pressed for him.

Stan laughs, squaring his shoulders before looking out around the morning crowd. “Yeah, well I used to be up at Kirkwood, but I got transferred about three, four weeks ago now. It’s a hell of a commute, but at least the pay’s better.” 

Beth hums, glancing over Stan’s shoulder to see if she could see anyone lingering nearby with a white bag.

“So you doing a little shopping?”

Stan wiggles his eyebrows at Beth, nodding his chin towards the bag and Beth’s cheeks feel like they’re on fire. 

And she really needed to get rid of Stan before this entire thing blew up in her face and she had to explain to Rio why she didn’t do the trade-off.

“There were some good sales,” Beth says weakly, shrugging. “Well I -”

“Hey while I got you, can you help me with something?” 

Stan rips open the velcro pocket on his chest, the noise making a few teenagers walking nearby stop and mime getting their wrists handcuffed towards Beth. 

“Now I know Ruby’s said she is against all forms of camping, but do you think she’d go for something like this?”

He taps on his phone for a minute before finally handing it over to show Beth the picture of an almost too picturesque wooden cabin nestled near a lake.

“I was thinking of surprising her for our anniversary,” he continues, swiping to show Beth pictures of a massive living room, a bedroom overlooking the water, and wood burning fireplace. “But is it too rustic? Because I’m not spending the entire trip listening to her complain about roughing it.”

“I think she’ll love it,” Beth says, pausing when she notices a burly man in a hoodie walk past them for a third time, a bag of some kind in his hand.

“Let me know the weekend and I’ll look after Harry and Sara for you,” she adds, reaching out to touch Stan’s forearm and pull him away from the bench.

“I just want to do something special you know? With all of Sara’s doctor’s appointments and L’il Money being L’il Money I feel like we haven’t had a chance to be together just us lately.”

Stan smiles softly, flipping through a few more pictures and there’s something in his expression that makes Beth forget what she’s doing for a minute, losing herself to the memory of Ruby telling her that she’d met _the one_ in a food court just like this one years ago, giggling when Beth teased her about becoming Mrs. Hill. 

“It’s perfect,” Beth repeats, smiling when she meets Stan’s relieved eyes.

“Yeah? Well I’m sure you’ll hear all about it later from Ruby, think you can act surprised when she tells you?” 

Beth laughs, ready to reply that her acting skills were up to the challenge when the walkie-talkie hooked on Stan’s chest squawks to life and a garbled voice murmuring about a disturbance by the Foot Locker interrupts them.

“Alright, well I gotta go deal with this,” Stan sighs, tucking his phone back in his pocket before pressing the call button on his walkie to say he was on his way. “Remember I didn’t tell you anything about the cabin.”

Beth nods, already looking around for the man in the hoodie when she hears Stan yell.

“Hey! Hold up a minute man!”

And it feels like time slows down as Beth watches Stan jog past her, stopping to pick up something near where Beth had been sitting before moving to block the man she’d seen before from leaving.

They’re too far away for her to make out what they’re saying, so all she can do is stand by and watch as Stan crosses his arms over his chest and nods towards the bag the man’s holding, the _pink-striped_ bag.

Looking away, Beth takes a small step back to where she’d been waiting and there tucked just behind the leg of the bench is a white bag, hidden where only she’d know to look for it.

God did Stan see the guy switch the bags? 

And she should do something, _anything_ , to get them out of this situation, but she can’t figure out what, her mind too fuzzy and her vision going hazy around the edges as she watches Stan point over at her, his left hand reaching back for the handcuffs clipped to his belt.

Then it’s only Dean’s voice echoing in her head, reminding her that she was in over her head with these guys, that they wouldn’t hesitate to throw her aside if something happened.

But suddenly Stan’s hand drops from his belt and he leans forward to hand the man a set of keys, laughing as he taps a dolphin keychain dangling among all the metal before turning to walk back over to Beth.

“Sorry about that,” Stan comments. “No worse feeling in the world than realizing you lost your keys right?”

Beth laughs softly, her eyes following the man as he disappears outside.

“The worst,” she agrees.

“Okay I really need to go before there’s a riot at the Foot Locker,” Stan jokes, winking at Beth. “Remember you don’t know anything about any cabins or weekends away.”

“What cabin?” Beth asks, smiling when Stan mutters _damn straight_.

She watches Stan disappear around the corner then waits another minute or two before she finally heads over to the bench and grabs the bag. 

It’s lighter than she expected, not even close to the pink bag. Maybe drugs weren’t actually that heavy, she thinks, tugging open the bag to see a small box wrapped in brown paper.

Beth tucks the bag under her arm, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Stan hadn’t forgotten anything else when she notices a tall black man half-hidden behind some fake trees, his own gaze out at the crowd away from her.

And it hits her so quickly, anger burning through her veins when she realizes she’s seen him before, that he’s been at the warehouse.

_Rio’s_ warehouse.

\--

The wind’s picked up since she’d been inside, cold air that seeps into her bones and blows her hair into her face as soon as she steps out the double doors. 

Rio’s car isn’t parked in the same space it had been earlier and for a second she thinks that he’s left her until she notices he’s just moved to a spot in the far corner of the parking lot, tucked away near a line of trees that almost hides the black car in darkness.

She can see Rio hunched over in the driver’s seat through the windshield as she approaches, his gaze turned down at his phone while his fingers glide across the screen, the beginnings of a small frown tugging on his lips.

He hasn’t seen her yet, too distracted by whatever he’s reading, and she wonders if this is how he feels when he takes her by surprise, if he enjoys the power and knowledge that comes from watching someone who has no idea they’re not alone, when they’re at their most vulnerable. 

Rio’s head snaps up as soon as she opens the door, the frown that had been on his face shifting to that familiar indifferent expression once she falls heavily onto the leather passenger seat, rolling her eyes when she notices the two empty muffin wrappers in the cupholder, the white bag falling easily to the floor.

There’s some kind of music playing quietly, something with a steady bass and Beth lets it wash over her as she waits for Rio to acknowledge her or ask for the bag.

Except Rio doesn’t say anything, just watches her reach out to warm her fingers near the air-vents before his phone vibrating draws his attention again. 

“Aren’t you going to ask how it went?” Beth asks finally, voice calm, borderline sweet even.

Rio hums, glancing over to look at the bag and then Beth before going back to whatever he had been typing.

And she knows she should just leave it be, can practically hear Ruby telling her not to press the scary gang leader, but she can’t stop herself. 

“Is that your boy’s report on how I did?”

Rio chuckles, hitting send on his message and tucking his phone into his jacket pocket. 

“You saw Dags huh?”

Beth scoffs, turning in her seat so she could see Rio better.

“Is this funny to you?” she bites out, trying to meet Rio’s eyes but his gaze stays focused on something outside and not her. “Did you have him send you updates the entire time?”

Almost on cue she can hear Rio’s phone vibrate in his pocket, a long series of pulses that push their way under her skin and pluck at her already raw nerves.

But he doesn’t move to answer it like she’d half-expected, instead he just rolls his shoulders back and down before letting out a soft breath.

“Had to make sure you got what it takes, Elizabeth. Now we know.”

Beth rolls her eyes, trying to ignore the waves of condescension she can practically feel coming off Rio and bends to pick up the bag from the floor of the car only to pause halfway down when the full weight of Rio’s words hit her.

“Wait,” she murmurs, narrowing her eyes at Rio, “was this some kind of test?”

The bag’s still as light as she remembered and before she can stop herself she’s pulling the box out and ripping the paper off to reveal that it’s empty.

“Do you even care that I - _we_ \- almost got caught?” Beth asks, shoving the box back in the bag and tossing it onto Rio’s lap. “God Stan even stopped that man…” 

She pauses, watching Rio pick up the bag and move it onto the backseat next to the leftover muffins, his eyebrow lifting when he notices her staring at him.

“You knew Stan worked there, didn’t you?” 

And it should have been obvious, he’d known her kids had been staying with Dean at Judith’s all those weeks ago, had made it no secret that he knew more about her life than she’d ever revealed. 

God there was no part of her that he didn’t seem to feel entitled to.

“I don’t know who you think you are or what gives you the right to use me like I’m just some kind of puppet whose strings you can pull whichever way you please,” Beth seethes, digging her nails into the flesh of her palm, the sharp pain fueling her anger, “but I can’t just not come home one day. I have children and a family that depend on me to be there for them. And maybe you don’t understand because the only things that are important to you are money and your precious warehouse, but I refuse to take the fall for you because you’re not satisfied.”

She huffs out a breath, leaning back in her seat and closing her eyes, her anger still so hot under her skin.

The music must have switched off at some point because the only thing she can hear now is the hum of cars as they drive through the parking lot, the slam of a door. 

Then it’s Rio’s voice breaking the near-silence, making Beth realize what she’d just done. 

“Is that right?” 

Beth’s eyes pop open and she sees Rio nod his head, just a slight bob of his head before he reaches out to turn on the car, the late morning sun doing little to mask the fading bruises along his knuckles she hadn’t noticed earlier.

He doesn’t say anything else as he starts driving them away from the mall, doesn’t even glance in her direction as he merges onto the highway. 

But Beth can’t look away, can’t tear her eyes away from the hard clench of his jaw or the way he’s holding the steering wheel a little too tightly to be comfortable. 

She’s so lost in him that it takes her a few seconds to realize that the car’s stopped moving. 

Glancing out her window Beth blinks slowly, momentarily confused that Rio’s brought her back to her house and not the warehouse to keep working. 

He’s still not looking at her when she turns to unfasten her seatbelt, her fingers hovering above the plastic for a few seconds while she waits for him to say something, anything, but he doesn’t.

Sighing, Beth tugs her coat shut, bracing herself for the cold she knows is waiting for her outside, when suddenly Rio’s arm reaches across her body to grab the door handle. 

“Yeah, so I think you and me got a couple things to discuss before you go.”

Beth shifts back in her seat, trying to ignore the sharp prick of anxiety working it’s way up her neck as she watches Rio’s other hand lift to grip the back of her seat behind her shoulder, caging her in.

“You think you a boss now just ‘cause I let you organize my money for me, but let me give you a little piece of advice,” Rio murmurs, tilting his head a little to meet Beth’s eyes. “You ain’t worth shit to me if you can’t do a simple job.”

And she almost regrets spending so much time wishing he’d look at her because now that he is it’s too much, the hardness behind his eyes immediately enveloping her like a wave and making her wish she was anywhere else.

“But I -” 

“Nah this ain’t really up for debate,” Rio says, cutting her off. “You don’t get to pick and choose what you wanna do, you do what I say or you pay me the money your husband owes me. It’s pretty simple, darlin’.” 

_But it’s not_ , Beth thinks. Nothing these last few weeks had been _simple_ , not since that night in the dealership.

Rio leans forward again, eyebrows raised and she realizes he expects an answer, that he’s giving her a choice.

Except she doesn’t have an answer. 

Or maybe she does, knows that she needs to settle this debt with him, but she just can’t admit that to him now. Not when her anger is still so red hot and he’s looking at her like she’s a child. 

So instead she squares her shoulders and lifts her chin, meeting his gaze straight on.

“A’ight then,” Rio says finally, voice somehow both rough and soft enough she can barely make it out even in the silence of the car. 

He lifts his hand off the door handle, the sleeve of his hoodie brushing against Beth’s jacket, and it’s only then that she notices how close they’ve actually gotten to each other, close enough that she can make out the faint dotting of freckles like a constellation on his cheekbones, the small gap in his beard where a scar peeks through. 

It’s quick then, the way her anger morphs into something even hotter and coils in her low belly, making her breath catch in the back of her throat.

She can’t remember the last time she felt like this overwhelmed with want, god if she ever had, and she knows it’s a horrible idea but then she’s shifting forward just slightly before she can stop herself, letting the warmth of his cologne sweep over her.

And it takes him a couple seconds, but she can see when Rio finally clocks how close they are too, his eyes softening at the corners as his tongue runs along his lips.

Slowly, his left hand rises and he tucks a loose curl behind Beth’s ear, the roughness of his fingertips against her overheated skin making her shiver and close her eyes.

She feels Rio move closer to her again, can practically taste him already when suddenly she hears a click and a gust of wind fills the car. 

Opening her eyes, Beth turns to see the car door open behind her before looking over at Rio who’s watching her with an amused expression still just as close as he had been.

“Yeah, I think this thing’s run its course, so someone’ll be by to get my money,” Rio pauses, smirking when he sees how flushed Beth still is. “Now would you please get out of my car?” he adds, his voice almost unfairly smooth despite the demand.

Beth slides out of the car, ignoring Rio’s chuckle when her foot gets caught on the door guard and lets the door slam behind her. 

Then he’s gone, leaving her on her front steps to watch him drive away without a second glance.

_Well shit_ , she thinks.

\--

“So what’s this I hear about you doing some _special_ shopping this morning?”

Beth groans into the phone, carefully adjusting her grip on the cracked handle of the laundry basket so it didn’t dig into her palm before pushing open the door to her bedroom.

“How do you even know about that?” 

“Did you really think Stan wouldn’t immediately text Ruby that you were out buying lingerie?" Annie laughs. "And that Ruby wouldn’t then immediately call me with the hot gossip?”

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Beth says, tucking her phone tighter against her shoulder so she could up-end the basket of laundry onto her bed.

She’d been on edge ever since Rio had dropped her off earlier, slowly moving around her house with a tentativeness she’d never experienced before, half expecting to turn a corner to find Rio or one of his boys waiting with their guns to collect what he was owed.

But as the morning bled into the afternoon and it became clear that no one was coming for her, a strange sort of heaviness settled deep in her, a constant reminder that she’d actually messed up.

“Isn’t the Denton mall like thirty minutes away from your house?” Annie asks. “God they better have been some high-class _Pretty Woman_ panties to make that drive worth it. So what are we talking about here? Garter-belts? Bustiers? Toys?”

“Why do you even care?” Beth hisses, flicking her phone over to speaker before bending to pick up a pair of Emma’s socks that had fallen off the bed.

“Honestly I’m just a little surprised you’d want Deansie to get all up in your secret garden after everything’s that happened.”

Beth sits back on the bed, laundry forgotten, her thumb ghosting over the small lace fringe sewn into the top of the sock. There was a small tear along the edge, obvious now in the bright light of the bedroom, and Beth wonders briefly how Emma had managed that.

“God what is it about that guy anyway?” Annie jokes. “Does he have some kind of like magic peen situation? Because I’ll be honest, I remember when I let him hug me that one time and I swear I smelled like deli cold cuts for a solid week afterwards.”  
“Annie…”

“Straight up pastrami for days. Oh and those clammy hands! Like how does a person sweat that much? It can’t be natural for someone -”

“I wasn’t shopping!” Beth interrupts, desperate to stop Annie from going any further.

Annie’s silent for a minute, then two, long enough that Beth actually checks to make sure that call hadn’t dropped by mistake.

“Well I will be the first to say that I’m glad you are apparently not fucking Dean again,” Annie says slowly, “but if you weren’t shopping what were you doing?”

And even though it’s the middle of the day and she’s alone in the house, Beth still reaches out to shut the door to her room, needing the sense of security the click of the lock brings her.

“I was working, okay? Now can we please talk about something else?”

“No way,” Annie bristles. “You offering to work for a gang is easily the most exciting moment of any of our lives and I’m not going to let you talk about some bake sale instead. Does gang boss have you out there buying special gifts for his mob wife or whatever?”

And Beth knows it’s a joke, but it still doesn’t stop the flash of jealousy that snakes its way up her spine. 

Did he have someone?

He’d gotten so close in the car after all and she swears there was a moment when it seemed like he was actually going to bridge the gap between them. 

Shaking her head, Beth picks up Emma’s socks again, willing that feeling growing in her stomach away as she drags her fingernail through the tear, watching the rip grow until she knows it’s ruined.

“No I wasn’t buying lingerie for Rio’s mistress,” Beth sighs. “He just needed something dropped off with a colleague of his and he sent me. Really the less you know the better.”

Faintly Beth can hear a tinny voice on the other end of the phone announce the day’s sales and smiles as she pictures Annie tucked away in the corner of some aisle avoiding having to go back after her break. 

“I thought you were just organizing money,” Annie says, her voice soft in a way that Beth doesn’t think she’s heard for years, not since Annie’s divorce at least.

“That’s part of it,” Beth replies, or at least it _was_ part of it.

“Look I get it,” Annie huffs. “Dean fucked up royally and he pulled you right down with him, but are you really sure this is a good idea? I mean the money was one thing, but now you’re running special errands for him? Are you being careful?”

“I thought this was the coolest thing I’d ever done?”

“Oh it is, trust me, but that doesn’t mean that I want you to get hurt or arrested. What do you even know about this guy?”

_Nothing_ , she thinks, closing her eyes, _except that he took a chance on me._

“Well you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” Beth mumbles.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

And it’s on the tip of her tongue, how she’d burned the bridge with Rio and gotten herself fired, but she can’t say it, doesn’t want it to be real.

Because even after everything that had happened that morning, everything they’d said to each other, there was still this part of her that wanted to go back and keep working for him.

It wasn’t what she’d expected, not even close, but somewhere along the way she’d started to enjoy it, loved being good at something that wasn’t just taking care of the kids or keeping the house organized.

But it wasn’t just that.

There was this moment.

This beautiful moment in time right after Stan had left and before she’d noticed Dags, when she had the bag in her hand and she realized that she’d actually done it, that she had pulled it off.

God she had felt so powerful and invincible. Like nothing could ever stop her.

And she’d give anything to feel that way again. 

“Nothing,” Beth replies, picking up a pair of Kenny’s pants to fold only to toss it next to Emma’s sock when she notices a hole in the hem. “I’ve got it under control, okay?”

“If you’re sure,” Annie mumbles. “But if you need anything, just…” 

Annie breaks off suddenly as another voice starts to grow louder in the background asking when she planned on helping with the registers.

“Alright, well apparently a person can’t take a personal call anymore,” Annie bites out. “But next time you actually need to buy some new undies, call me first okay? God knows you need the help.”

Beth squawks, ready to defend herself because she’d definitely doesn’t need any help, especially Annie’s, when the phone beeps twice in her ear and Annie’s gone.

Sighing, Beth rubs her forehead absently, willing away the beginnings of the headache she can feel pricking just behind her eyes, the weight of the day finally bearing down on her. 

And then before she could really second guess herself she reaches over to pick up her cell again, scrolling through her contacts until she finds the R’s.

\--

There was something about parks that always reminded Beth of her mother, some ghost of a memory that she could never avoid no matter how hard she tried.

Not the way she was at the end though, when she was too thin and too sick to even remember where she was, but before.

Before Annie was born, before their dad left… just before.

It had been their special thing. 

Every Saturday morning without fail when she didn’t have to rush off to work, her mother would wake Beth up early to watch cartoons and eat cereal with too much sugar before they would walk the two blocks down the street to the little park in their neighborhood. 

And really calling it a park was probably overly generous since it really only had an old set of swings and a small jungle gym, but to them it was perfect.

They were perfect.

Until suddenly they weren’t and those mornings became part of a past that Beth had worked so hard to forget.

A past that made her feel unsettled as soon as she parked her car near the bench where Rio had said they would meet.

Shaking her head, Beth lets out a shaky breath before looking out to see if she could spot Rio among the small crowd of late morning joggers and young children.

Even after her call with Annie, it was still another three days before Beth was able to swallow her pride and reach out to Rio, sending him a simple message to ask if they could talk. 

And it felt like that first time again as Beth watched the dots rise on her phone almost immediately after she sent the text, her breath catching as she waited for his reply. 

But instead of an answer, the dots fell and didn’t rise again no matter how often Beth checked the message, leaving her anxious and sick to her stomach that maybe it really was too late.

Then two days later, after the kids had gone to bed for the night and Beth tried to follow along to some crime procedural, it finally came. 

A short _fine_ with a time the following afternoon and the name of a park on the other side of town, which had been a surprise, but didn’t stop her from sending back a quick _see you then_. 

Sighing, Beth walks over to an old wooden bench and sits down, shrugging her purse off her shoulder and resisting the urge to check his message for the hundredth time.

Maybe she had the wrong park? Or maybe the wrong - 

“Yo.”

Looking to her right, Beth watches as Rio rounds the bench and takes a seat on the opposite end, crossing his legs out in front of him. 

“So what’s up?” Rio asks, tucking his hands into the pockets of his black denim jacket and turning slightly to take in Beth, an almost appreciative rumbling sound escaping him as his eyes slowly drift up and down her body.

Beth sighs, squaring her shoulders as she meets Rio’s gaze. 

“I can’t get you the money.”

“Is that right?” Rio drawls, nodding his head before turning to look back out over the park. 

“I thought or maybe I was hoping…” Beth pauses, closing her eyes when she notices the smirk growing on Rio’s face. “I want to come back.”

Rio’s quiet for a minute, then his soft chuckle makes Beth blink her eyes open to see him drag his hand along his jaw, the cooper of his ring shining like a beacon in the sunshine.

“You didn’t seem too interested in that the other day.”

And she knows what he’s doing, that he wants her to apologize or admit that she was wrong. 

Because, of course, he’s enjoying this, seeing her powerless and needing him.

“Well I changed my mind.”

“Yeah?” Rio asks. “It’s a little late for that, darlin’.”

“There has to be something I can do,” Beth says, a little too quickly if the smile on Rio’s face is anything to go by.

Rio shrugs, eyes sweeping out across the park.

“You’d have to start from the beginnin’.” 

The beginning, which means all the work, everything she’s done for the last three weeks will have been for nothing. But it’s not like she really has a choice.

“Fine,” Beth bites out.

“Cool.”

“So when…” she starts only to be interrupted by another, smaller voice.

“Daddy!”

And Beth finally understands what people mean when they say it feels like time stands still.

Because suddenly everything seems like it’s moving in slow motion as she watches a little boy with Rio’s eyes and a smile that’s almost too big for his face run up the small hill towards them clutching a dirty soccer ball. 

“What’s up, pop?” Rio asks, glancing over at Beth quickly before his hand darts out to ruffle the boy’s hair when he gets close enough to the bench, only the boy dodges him and instead presses himself, and the ball, down onto Rio’s lap.

“Did you see my goal?”

Rio chuckles, reaching out to grab the soccer ball from the boy, _his son_. He tosses it up in the air, smiling when the boy catches it.

And all Beth can do is sit, frozen, watching them pass the ball back and forth while her brain tries to catch up with what’s happening and why he’s letting her in on this part of his life.

“I got a little distracted talkin’ to Ms. Elizabeth here, but I promise I’ll pay more attention next time, okay?”

The boy nods before turning to look at Beth and smiling shyly, the soccer ball pulled tightly into his chest.

“Hi, Ms. Elizabeth.” 

“Hi,” Beth murmurs quietly, smiling back at him. “What’s your name?”

The boy looks back at Rio, unsure, and it reminds Beth so much of her Danny, how he never likes to leave her side if he’s near a stranger.

“It’s a’ight,” Rio says, running his hand down the boy’s back in encouragement and Beth can feel her own heart squeeze at the gesture.

“Marcus,” he mumbles.

“Well it’s nice to meet you Marcus,” Beth replies, reaching out to shake his hand and winking when he finally does the same.

She can feel Rio’s eyes on her the entire time she’s talking to Marcus, watching her with the same focus he brings to everything he does. 

Looking over Marcus’ shoulder, Beth meets Rio’s gaze and pauses when she sees his raised eyebrow. 

Then it all makes sense, why he’s showing her this part of him.

Because she said he was selfish and he only cared about making money. When they actually weren’t that different after all and god did that just make her have so many more questions about him.

“Dad, can we get ice cream on the way home?”

Rio laughs, something carefree and easy that makes Beth smile before standing and heaving the boy over his shoulder.

“Gotta celebrate that goal don’t we?”

Beth watches as they head down the hill towards the parking lot, the boy giggling loudly when Rio reaches up to tickle his side. 

Then he pauses and turns back to Beth.

“Tomorrow, 9 AM. Don’t be late.”

Beth nods, waving back at Marcus when he smiles at her.

And she’s just fished her own car keys out of her purse, ready to get back to her own kids when she hears it.

“Daddy, was that the lady who made the muffins?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the thanks in the world to the wonderful fortunehasgivenup who beta'd for me, dealt with me being dramatic about this chapter for weeks, and even bribed me with fic to get me to post (the amazing "you let me complicate you" which is now published here too). She's the best and I don't deserve her.
> 
> Special shout out to my lovely civillove/McCall who is always supportive of me and also listened to me whine (guys I whine a lot okay).
> 
> AND thanks to all of you for your patience between updates - unfortunately real life got a little crazy. But I will never abandon this fic and I appreciate every kudos and comment.
> 
> Come say hi or yell at me about Brio on tumblr at medievalraven.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

“Boss wants you to stack and bundle these bills today, think you can remember how it works?”

“No problem,” Beth replies easily, sliding her jacket off and draping it over the back of the metal chair, folding the fabric carefully so she could have some kind padding. 

Demon arches one eyebrow almost mockingly, making the feather inked on his skin flutter before he chuckles and bends to pick up some loose twenties to drop on the table in front of Beth. 

“I’ll be by later to check on ya,” he grunts, turning and walking away, leaving her alone in the small corner of the warehouse. 

Sighing, Beth grabs one of the bills and runs her finger along the edge, letting the paper drag across her skin before she chances a look around her, trying to spot Rio. 

It had been almost three weeks since that day in the park when he’d agreed to take her back and she’d learned pretty quickly that when Rio said she’d have to start at the beginning again he wasn’t just talking about her debt.

She’d spent days unloading storage containers, cleaning the dryers, even helping box up the warehouse when Demon announced they would be moving. 

Every night she’d gone home sore, tired, only to repeat it all over again the next morning. 

But she could handle it, no matter what they threw her way. 

It wasn’t like she didn’t know why she was suddenly doing these jobs, didn’t realize that this was Rio’s way of punishing her for what had happened in his car, of showing her that she wasn’t as important as she thought. 

Even if she did know about Marcus. 

And that’s how Beth knows _something_ must be wrong because Rio wouldn’t just stop punishing her, not when he’s been so cagey and basically avoided her as much as he could since that day. It just doesn’t make sense for him to suddenly stop. 

She looks around the space again, noting how empty it seems. They’d set up all the equipment the week before (an assignment that still made Beth’s back ache), but there’s barely anyone here. Just a handful of people milling around, nothing close to what she’d seen when she first started. She doesn’t even see Rio anywhere, overseeing his kingdom. 

“Well look who it is, I was wondering when I’d see you again.”

“Me too,” Beth laughs, smiling as she watches Marisol round the table and sit down next to her. “Honestly I think Demon was just tired of babysitting me.”

Marisol cackles and the sound fills the half-empty warehouse, making a couple of men lingering nearby look over at them, scowling at the interruption. 

“Sounds about right.”

“Hey,” Beth starts, setting her bundle of money to the side and leaning in closer to Marisol, lowering her voice, “is something going on around here?”

“What are you talking about?”

Beth clears her throat softly before glancing over her shoulder to check no one’s nearby. “There’s like no one here and Demon only asked me to do half the bundles I used to do.”

Marisol shrugs, snapping a rubber band around her own stack of bills. “Trust me, I’m sure Rio’s got a good reason for all that, okay?”

“I’m sure,” Beth bristles, tossing another pile of bills into her box, almost toppling it with the force of her throw. 

They work quietly for the next few minutes, easily stacking and bundling the twenties Demon had left when a noise by the dryers makes Beth pause, bills forgotten. 

She watches as two men open the bottom latch and poke around the electrical of the dryer, bickering until something makes them stop and she sees Rio walk up to the bank of dryers. 

There’s too much noise for her to make out what the problem is, but that doesn’t stop Beth from watching the men, following their movements as they all lean forward to look inside the dryer.

Rio nods his head at whatever the men are saying, rolling up his shirt sleeves to reach inside and try to fix the issue with the dryer, laughing softly as he adjusts something. 

And it’s not the same, not nearly as carefree or loud, but it still reminds Beth of that brief moment in the park. How easy Rio was around Marcus, how she could tell that little boy had his father wrapped around his finger, how she’d spent the rest of that day wondering what else she didn’t know about him. 

“You’ve known Rio for a long time, right?” Beth asks slowly, tearing her gaze away from the men to look at Marisol again, picking up a couple bills. 

Marisol smiles. “Long enough. He used to run around with my Tony when they were just kids.”

“Really?” Beth says, trying to picture Rio as a child, almost laughing when the image of a boy with teasing eyes, a black bomber jacket, and a large neck tattoo pops into her head. 

“Yeah. They’d ride up and down the street on their bikes for hours, weaving around cars and daring each other to do stupid tricks. Nearly gave me a heart attack every damn time they went out.”

“Kids will do that,” Beth comments, looking over at Rio again and biting the inside of her cheek. “My youngest, Jane, decided that nothing’s as fun as jumping off the top of our slide. You try to protect them, but they’ll do what they want.”

Marisol nods, taking in a shaky breath before reaching for another rubber band. “That sounds just like Tony. In the end I couldn’t help him though.”

Beth freezes, dread pricking the back of her neck as she clocks the unshed tears in Marisol’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize -”

“It’s fine,” Marisol interrupts, waving a hand at Beth. “He made his choice and there was nothing any of us could do to change his mind in the end.”

“Was he...did he work for Rio too?”

“God no, this was years ago, long before any of this,” Marisol says. 

“How did any of this happen anyway?” Beth asks as casually as she can, tapping her stack of money on the table to fix the edges.

Marisol sighs, looking around the warehouse, smiling when she spots Rio. “You have to understand that there aren’t the same opportunities for kids like Rio or Tony as there are for your kids, the world’s just not that kind. And you know how Rio is, that wasn’t good enough for him,” she says, laughing. “This is his way of making sure his life was exactly how he wanted it to be for himself and his family.”

Beth smiles weakly, running her nail across one of the twenties.

“Not all dreams have white picket fences or corner offices, sweetheart,” Marisol adds.

 _And wasn’t that the truth_ , Beth thinks, wishing she’d realized that long ago.

—

“Then what happened?”

“Well I guess at some point we got too close to the fireplace because we were _you know_ and all the sudden Stan’s yelling for a whole ‘nother reason,” Ruby sighs. “Serves him right for trying to romance me next to an open flame.”

“I don’t think he’ll make that mistake again,” Beth laughs, unlocking her phone to find the text with the order information. “And at least he took you on a trip.”

They’d stopped by a little stationery store on the way to lunch to pick up some specially designed posters for the PTA’s fall mixer and usually Beth avoided this part of event planning, preferring to stick to baking or other behind the scenes tasks, but she’d felt guilty for missing so many meetings thanks to her new _job_ that she’d found herself raising her hand to help when it became clear no one else would. 

It takes her a second to find the right message, scrolling between what feels like the same group message five times before she finally finds the confirmation number buried in a chain of texts she’d barely glanced at only to realize there’s no one working the front counter. 

Beth glances around the store slowly, trying to see if she can make out a name tag on any of the women wandering around the space. They were already running late to meet Annie and she can feel her phone vibrating in her back pocket with messages she just knows are from her. 

The store itself is small, quaint even and it’s somewhere Beth could see herself spending an afternoon getting lost in the wall of cards or tables of locally made tschoskies, everything just the right side of cutesy without being too matronly or cliche. 

The sound of a bell ringing takes her by surprise, making her gasp before she turns to glare at Ruby who’s raising her eyebrows in response. 

“What? We don’t have all day.”

Beth shakes her head, opening her mouth to chide Ruby when she notices an employee heading towards them out of the corner of her eye, the bright yellow of the woman’s dress making her smile. 

“Sorry about that! Welcome to Paper Porcupine, can I help you with something?”

“Yes, hi! I’m here to pick-up the order for Parkview Elementary School,” Beth says, reaching into her purse to find her wallet. “I got a text thingy that said they were ready.”

“Let me just check here,” the woman replies, turning to type something into her computer, the sound of a printer eclipsing the soft music playing in the store for a second before she places an invoice in front of Beth. “Looks like they were finished last night. We just need your signature here,” she pauses, marking an X next to a line near the bottom of the page, “and I’ll just go grab them from the back for you.”

“Your sister wants to know where we are,” Ruby laughs. “And she must be bored because she used about fifteen different emojis.”

Beth sighs, checking the time on her watch before scrawling her signature on the invoice. “Tell her we’re five minutes away.”

“Alright,” the woman says, rounding the counter and opening a white box enough to show Beth and Ruby the finished posters, “what do you think?”

“Oh,” Beth breaths, checking the woman’s name tag before continuing, “Lucy, they’re amazing.”

The paper feels smooth under her fingertips as Beth traces the swirls and lines, taking in the vividness of the reds and oranges of the background. 

“Thanks! It was a really fun project.”

“Wait, you designed this?” Ruby asks. 

“Yeah, we do it all in house. Design, color, printing. It’s a one stop shop,” Lucy shrugs, taping the box shut. “Okay that’ll be $76.45.”

Beth hums, pausing as she hands Lucy her credit card. “So you can print anything?”

“Within reason, but yeah. We make a plate with your design and you can use it as much as you need I guess.”

“What about - ”

“Beth Boland?”

Beth freezes, looking over at Ruby quickly and groaning when she sees the way her eyes have narrowed at whoever is standing behind her now. 

“Thank you again, Lucy,” Beth says, folding the invoice to slide into her purse and picking up the box before turning to see another mom in Danny’s class.

“I thought that was you! There’s not that many redheads with your penchant for floral around these parts,” the mom laughs, pulling Beth into a tight hug, drowning her in the overwhelming scent of her perfume. 

“It’s nice to see you again, Linda,” Beth murmurs. 

Linda preens. “We’ve missed you at the class meetings! I told everyone it had nothing to do with Patty of course, but they were all so convinced that’s why you’d disappeared.”

Beth shakes her head, shifting her grip on the box slightly. “I just got a new job that’s keeping me a little busy...wait what do you mean everyone thought it was about Patty?”

“Well we all heard those rumors about her and Dean and she didn’t exactly deny it when Lauren asked her about it, not that Lauren has a lot of room to judge.”

“Wait, I’m sorry, are you saying my hus- Dean slept with Patty and Lauren?” Beth asks, leaning into Ruby’s hand as it rests on the small of her back. 

And really it shouldn’t surprise her that there were other women, she’d suspected as much after she found out about Amber, but still it’s as if suddenly there’s a weight pressing down on Beth’s chest and she can’t breathe. 

Linda pauses, opening and closing her mouth a couple times before finally sliding her phone out of her pocket and stepping towards the door. “Would you look at that? I have to take this, but it was nice seeing you Bethie!”

Beth watches the door bounce in the frame behind Linda, the tinkling of the bells tied to the handles burrowing it’s way under her skin and grating her nerves. 

“Beth…”

“I’m fine,” Beth mumbles, pressing her finger to the corner of her eye to stop the moisture from pooling there. “Let’s just go, okay?”

She starts towards the exit, hoping Linda’s gone by now only to stop when she feels Ruby’s hand on her wrist pulling her into a hug. 

_And God_ , Beth thinks, burying herself tighter into Ruby’s embrace, _how did this happen again?_

—

The bourbon burns the back of her throat, it always has no matter what brand Beth buys. A sharp bite that always makes her feel tough, special. 

She finishes the last of her drink, dropping the glass back on the bar top with a soft thud before running her finger through the small droplets clinging to the inside, glancing around the bar to see where the bartender had disappeared. 

In the end they’d been ten minutes late meeting Annie, Beth’s swollen eyes immediately tipping her off that something had happened and making her flag down their waitress to bring a collection of disgusting and greasy foods. 

She’d sat picking at her fries while Ruby quietly filled in Annie, ignoring the way their eyes kept darting back to her, concern written so clearly on their faces, especially when it became clear that Beth wasn’t going to say anything.

And it wasn’t that Beth didn’t appreciate their sympathy, she just couldn’t handle their indignation when the only thing she could think about was how she’d missed this. How she’d spent years in a life she’d hated, oblivious while the man who swore he’d love her until his dying breath slept with anyone but her, while he ran his father’s dealership into the grave. 

What else had she’d missed? What other secrets had Dean hidden from her?

So she sat, fingers pushing around cold fries, numb and angry at not only Dean, but herself, listening to Ruby talk about Sara’s last doctor’s appointment.

It had taken everything Beth had to convince them not to follow her home and she’d only managed it by promising to call each of them later that night.

She’d watched them leave the cafe, both glancing back to check on her, before looking up the closest bar on her phone, needing to go anywhere that wasn’t her house.

Sighing, she lifts one hand to gather her hair and sweep it to one side, rubbing her hand over the hot skin along the nape of her neck. 

“Ready for another, love?”

Beth laughs, blinking her eyes open to see a new bartender standing behind the counter, bottle of bourbon in hand ready to refill her glass. 

“Sure,” she murmurs, turning to grab some cash, swaying slightly as the memory of the other drinks she had hit her.

“None of that,” the bartender says, voice rough with just a hint of an Irish lilt. “Pretty lady like you deserves a round on the house.”

He slides a fresh napkin over to Beth, squeezing her hand quickly, firmly, before heading over to greet someone on the other end of the bar, leaving Beth alone again.

She lets herself watch him, nursing her bourbon, savoring the taste of what must be a more expensive bottle as she takes in the long lines of the man as he bends over the counter to point at something on the menu for an older couple, blushing when he looks back at her and winks.

Was this what it was like for Dean? Did he just give in to these feelings of attraction and lust without any care for the vows that he promised to her? Did he enjoy the new, the strange, instead of what he had waiting at home?

And it seems so obvious then, how she could get her revenge on Dean, the one thing that would easily destroy his ego.

She quickly undos another button on her shirt, pulling on her hem so it shows more of her cleavage as she leans forward and rests her forearms on the bartop, smiling when the bartender makes his way back over.

“How’s that drink then?”

“Good,” Beth says, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Thank you again….?”

“Name’s Jack and it’s no problem at all,” he replies, resting his elbow on the bartop, his eyes drifting briefly to take in the now exposed skin of Beth’s décolletage before meeting her gaze again, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. “What’s a lady like you doing here alone anyway?”

Beth shrugs, her fingertip tracing the lip of her glass. “Maybe I was just looking for some company.”

And he’s not exactly her type, a little too muscular and young for her taste, but she could do a lot worse for a random one night stand than the cute bartender with the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

Jack laughs. “Is that right? Well what do you say -”

He pauses, grin disappearing, gaze flicking to something over Beth’s shoulder as he stands up straight. 

Beth opens her mouth to ask what’s wrong, narrowing her eyes at Jack, clocking how rigid he seems now and she’s about to turn to look behind her when she feels a hand settle on the small of her back. 

“Your usual, boss?” Jack asks, his voice betraying how flustered he is. He spins to grab a bottle of clear liquor from the shelves, almost dropping it in his haste before pouring the vodka into a glass and sliding it in front of the stool next to Beth. 

The hand slides away slowly, fingertips brushing against the sliver of exposed skin from where Beth’s shirt had ridden up and she knows even before they sit down who it is.

“Busy day?” Rio drawls, settling on the stool, pointedly avoiding looking at Beth.

Jack nods, tossing a white towel over his shoulder, visibly wilting under the weight of Rio’s scrutiny. “You know I’m gonna go help them unload that new shipment in the back. Give a shout if you need anything.”

Beth sighs, watching as Jack disappears through a swinging door without so much as a glance back at her, the bite of the bourbon chasing away her frustrations of having her night ruined.

“What are you doin’ here, Elizabeth?”

“What am _I_ doing here?” Beth bristles, dropping her glass back on the bartop before picking up her napkin to mop up the few drops that splash over the edge. “What are _you_ doing here? Did you follow me?”

Rio laughs, finally turning his head to take her in, rotating his glass slowly in his hands. “Nah, not today.”

“Lucky me,” Beth mumbles, checking her watch. It was still early, she could swing by Ruby’s and spend the night or maybe even stop by that one restaurant she loved that had the one waiter with the - 

“Ain’t you supposed to be married?”

“Excuse me?” 

“Oh I’m sorry so you weren’t just tryin’ to hit it with the bartender?” Rio drawls, tilting his head towards the door Jack had gone through.

Beth blanches, somehow both embarrassed that Rio had been watching long enough to hear her conversation with Jack and angry that he’d still chosen to interrupt. 

“God, what even...” she sputters, shaking her head. “And not that it’s any of your business, but no I’m not. Or at least I won’t be for much longer.”

“He miss too many dinners or something?” Rio jokes. 

“Try he stuck his penis in any woman who so much as talked to him for years,” Beth bites, blinking her eyes a couple times to stop the tears she can feel forming before downing the last of her bourbon.

Rio pauses, clenching his jaw before letting out a low whistle. “Is that right?”

Beth nods, pushing her empty glass back and forth on the bartop, jumping when Rio suddenly shifts forward enough to grab the bourbon bottle on the other side of the counter and pours her another drink. 

“What are you...,” Beth gasps, looking around the bar to see if anyone saw him only to freeze when she remembers what Jack had said before he left. “Wait, do you own this bar?”

Rio smiles. “Surprised, darlin’?”

Beth rolls her eyes, but really she can’t say that she is surprised. It’s not like she really knows anything about him, no matter how much she wants to learn. 

“It is a lot nicer than your warehouses,” she says, smiling when Rio laughs. “Think I can work here instead?”

“Take it up with HR, yeah?”

Rio’s phone buzzes softly in his pocket breaking the moment and he exhales sharply before sliding it out and responding to whatever text he’d received. Beth watches him type slowly, purposefully as he chooses his words, turning away when he switches apps and she notices the photo of Marcus set as his background, focusing instead on the small sign hanging above the cash register and squinting to make out the name of the bar.

“Was it the secretary?”

The question makes Beth furrow her brows, confused. “How did you know?”

Rio shrugs, reaching for the bourbon bottle again to fill his own glass, clinking his glass against hers when he’s done. 

And there’s something in the way he’s looking at her, his eyes full of something she can’t name, so different from the pity she’d seen from Ruby or the anger from Annie, that makes Beth feel brave enough to test the waters with him. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

Rio hums which Beth takes as the closest to approval she’s going to get. 

“Is everything okay?” Beth whispers, glancing around to make sure no one can hear her before she continues. “With the money?”

He doesn’t answer for a minute, rocking his jaw a little side-to-side as she assumes he debates how truthful he wants to be with her, how much he wants to share.

“Just an issue with a distributor up north, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

Beth takes another sip, nodding even though she knows there’s more to the story. But honestly she’s impressed he was willing to tell her that much.

His phone buzzes again, louder now that it’s resting on the bartop, and Rio flips it over to check the message before dropping it back on the wood, ignoring whoever had texted him to drum his fingers on the side of his glass instead. 

“Marcus with his mom tonight?” she asks before she can stop herself, flushing when she realizes what she’s just said. “Sorry, I just…”

“Nah,” Rio drawls, chuckling. “It’s cool. He’s spendin’ the night with his cousins.”

Beth smiles, heart warming at the idea of Marcus running around with other kids. It was something she’d always wanted for her own kids, but Dean didn’t have any siblings and Annie’s custody agreement made playdates with Ben spotty at best. 

“I bet he loves that,” Beth says. 

“Not as much as me and his ma.”

“Is it easy for you two?” Beth asks, picking at a nick in the wood with her nail. “Co-parenting? I just, I just don’t know how Dean and I are going to do it.”

Rio turns to look at her, eyes sweeping across her face like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle that he has all the pieces for but doesn’t know where they go and Beth has to fight the urge to fidget when his gaze finally meets hers for a moment before he looks down at his glass.

“It is what it is. Rhea and me were never really together, always just friends and then something more until we realized neither of us were happy. But we do what we can for Marcus and -“

He pauses suddenly and Beth can see the walls go up around him again, shutting away anything personal to her as he seems to remember who he’s talking to. 

“You’ll figure it out,” he murmurs quickly, finishing his drink and sliding off his stool, slipping his phone in his jeans. He stops next to her for a second, so close Beth can make out the faint scent of laundry detergent clinging to his clothes before he squeezes her arm, his touch gentle but firm enough that she can feel the press of his ring through her shirt.

And then she’s alone again, watching Rio through the front window as he walks down the street towards a black SUV and drives away. 

—

“Wait, you’re not done yet?”

Beth jumps, squeezing the piping bag in her hands in surprise, sending a spiral of brown frosting flying onto her countertop. Sighing, she grabs a towel to clean up the spot before turning to glare at Annie. 

“Oh hi Beth,” she says, imitating her sister as she picks up the piping bag again and finishes icing the cupcake in front of her. “Thanks so much for helping me out and baking two dozen cupcakes for my son’s debate team with only a day’s notice.”

Annie laughs, sitting down at the island and swiping her finger through the bowl of blue icing.

“Was that supposed to be me? We really need to work on your impressions. It’s all about the timing.”

Beth rolls her eyes, swatting Annie’s hand when she reaches out to grab the entire bowl of icing before moving the last cupcake into the travel case. 

They weren’t her best work, just a standard chocolate cake recipe with a cream cheese icing piped in Ben’s school colors with tiny gavels made from fondant resting on top. If she had more time she might have experimented with a different batter or frosting, something unexpected but delicious. 

“Annie…” Beth warns. “You’re going to give yourself a cavity if you don’t stop.”

Annie shrugs. “Don’t need teeth to eat icing though, do I?”

Beth sighs, looking around the kitchen for the lids to the travel cases. She could have sworn she left them by the sink after she’d washed them that morning, but the only things sitting there now were her breakfast dishes. 

“Seriously though thank you, you’re a lifesaver,” Annie says around a spoonful of icing. “I’d just buy some at work, but then I’d have to deal with Nance’s judgey face and backhanded comments about store-bought baked goods all night. And you know I’d snap.”

Beth hums, walking to her mudroom to see if she’d left the lids out there. “Next time just let me know earlier.”

“Totally - nothing but advance notice for my favorite sister!” Annie replies easily, the sound of her chair scraping against the hardwood and her feet hitting the ground echoing in the kitchen making Beth grimace. “Hey your phone’s really blowing up out here.”

“Can you check and see who it is?” Beth asks, smiling when she opens a cabinet and sees the lids, pausing after she pulls them out from behind some pyrex to figure out if she’d actually washed them or if she’d just meant to and gotten distracted. The last thing she needed was to miss a message from Demon or Rio asking her to come in. 

“You got about fifty texts from Deansie boy,” Annie says, pretending to gag before passing Beth her phone after she covers the cupcakes. 

And it’s not quite fifty, but there are at least ten messages staring back at her from Dean, ranging from a simple _Call me_ to _Emma forgot her stuffed bear. Be by soon to pick it up_ and Beth suddenly feels frozen at the prospect of seeing Dean now.

“Have you guys talked since _you know_?” Annie asks as if reading Beth’s mind, voice gentle, soft.

Beth shakes her head, untying her apron with unsteady hands and laying it on the counter before reaching up to let her hair down from her ponytail, running her fingers through the tangled curls.

She’d meant to call him after she got home from the bar, her buzz from the bourbon (and her conversation with Rio) making her feel confident enough to confront him and lay out all his sins. But then as soon as she’d walked through her front door and saw the picture of them from their anniversary four years ago hanging on the wall all that confidence bloomed into anger and she spent the rest of the night cleaning her house of anything that reminded her of Dean or their marriage. Packing away all the hurt and pain into old cardboard boxes until she felt like she could finally breathe again.

“Do you want me to stay?” Annie adds, wrapping her arms around Beth’s waist and swaying slightly, squeezing tighter when Beth reaches up to hold her hand. “I could totally tell him off for you.”

Beth laughs because she’d actually love to see Annie unleashed on Dean, would love to watch Annie run through the list of things she hates about Dean to his face, the one she’d been carefully curating since she was eight and Dean ate the last ice cream sandwich without sharing. 

“Maybe next time,” Beth says, glancing towards the door when she hears a car door slam. 

“Offer will literally always be on the table.”

Annie squeezes Beth one last time before moving to grab the cupcakes, balancing them precariously in her arms as she digs around in her purse for her keys, stopping when the side door flies open and Dean walks in. 

“Hey! Did you get my texts?”

Beth nods, fixing the containers in Annie’s grasp before gesturing vaguely around the kitchen. “I’ve been a little busy.”

“Yeah her life doesn’t revolve around you there bud,” Annie comments. 

“I didn’t say that,” Dean sputters, looking back and forth between Beth and Annie. 

“It was implied,” Annie replies, brushing past Dean to leave. “Thanks again, Beth. I owe you mucho drinks later, okay?” 

The door slams shut behind Annie and Beth has to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from smiling when she hears Annie mumble _dickless asshole_ on her way out. 

“What was that about?” Dean asks, opening the fridge to grab a bottle of water, surveying the mess of pans and bowls in the kitchen before reaching over to pick up an unfrosted cupcake.

“Nothing. Annie just needed something for Ben’s school,” Beth says, stepping further away from Dean to start cleaning up. 

“So did you find the bear?”

“Do you mean Carl? Emma’s stuffed _rabbit_?” Beth asks, moving the dirty bowls to the sink and flicking on the faucet, wincing when the water splashes back and soaks the bottom of her shirt. 

Dean chuckles, eyes focused on the wet spot before he turns to tear off a few sheets of paper towels and passes them to Beth. 

“Check the living room,” Beth comments, swiping the paper towels along her shirt with enough force it leaves little bits of white with every stroke. “I think I saw him there earlier when I was cleaning.”

Dean disappears down the hall and Beth finally lets out the breath she’d been holding. 

She tosses the paper towel aside and for a second she wishes Annie hadn’t left, that she was here to help her. 

Because it isn’t that she doesn’t want to have this conversation with Dean. She knows that if she ever wants to free herself from this weird kind of purgatory they’re in now, where they’re still so connected to each other despite everything that’s happened, she needs to actually talk to him about what he’d hidden away from her, what he’d done to her.

It’s just this voice in the back of her head. 

The one that had started as a whisper when she left the stationery store and had grown into a yell when the dust had settled and she was surrounded by the boxed remains of her life with Dean. 

What if Linda was wrong? What if it was all just rumors? 

And it wasn’t that Beth didn’t think Dean was capable of it, the memory of those credit card charges too fresh for her to forget, but this was different. Less concrete and not based on anything that she could lean into and the last thing she wanted was to give Dean any power, any leverage if she was wrong. 

She’d already been made a fool of for so long, she didn’t want to invite in any more embarrassment.

“Got it!” Dean says, waving the stuffed animal as he wanders back into the kitchen, veering towards the door. “What’s up with all those boxes and stuff?”

Beth sighs, rubbing her palms against her jeans. “Dean, we should talk.”

He nods, glancing back at the boxes as he must piece together what they are before looking down at Carl and pulling a loose thread on the ribbon wrapped around its neck until the end completely frays, dropping the string to the floor. 

“I think we need to - 

“I had an interesting visitor at the dealership the other day,” Dean says suddenly, cutting Beth off. He takes a step closer to her, pressing his shoulder into the side of the fridge and Beth narrows her eyes at him, willing away the weight that seemed to be growing in the pit of her stomach. “Some guy with the FBI wanted to ask me a bunch of questions.”

And for a second the only thing Beth can hear is the sound of her blood rushing in her ears as that weight in her stomach clenches hard, everything around her melting away as she processes what Dean’s just said. 

Clearing her throat, she tucks a stray curl behind her ear, schooling her face to seem indifferent when she clocks Dean watching her too closely. “About what?”

Dean laughs. “Apparently they’re tracking some counterfeit ring in Detroit and think some money might have gone through the service department.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Told me if I have any more information or suspicious bills to call and let them know.”

Beth hums, mind working in overdrive as she tries to figure out what this all meant. God did Rio have any idea? It had to be him the FBI were tracking right? He’d mentioned problems up north, but this wasn’t exactly a distributor -

“So it’s probably best if you act surprised when they bust that gang,” Dean says, his voice breaking through Beth’s thoughts.

“What did you tell them, Dean?”

“Well nothing yet, but come on! This is our chance to finally get rid of these, these,” Dean huffs, struggling to find the right word, “these jerks and our stupid debt!” 

“ _Your_ debt,” Beth corrects, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Dean rolls his eyes, lifting his hand to rake through his hair and Beth has to close her eyes when she catches the glimmer of his wedding ring. “Don’t you want to go back to normal? You seriously want to keep working for these tattooed thugs instead of spending time with your family?”

Beth laughs. “And what’s normal? Me cooking dinner and taking care of our children oblivious while you sleep your way through the PTA moms?”

And she almost wishes she could take a picture of Dean’s reaction so she can always remember the way his face just goes lax and pale at her words, how he keeps opening and closing his mouth as he struggles to find something to say. 

It’s almost enough to mask the pain that pricks her heart at the confirmation that it wasn’t just Amber after all.

“That life’s gone and it’s never coming back,” Beth continues, gesturing towards the boxes lining the hallway. “And if you try to turn Rio in I’ll have no problem letting the FBI know why that counterfeit money was at the dealership in the first place.”

The mention of Rio makes Dean’s eyes harden, snapping him out of his stupor.

“So that’s it, huh? You’re picking him over us?”

 _Over me_. He doesn’t say it, but Beth can hear the words hanging between them, languishing in the dull afternoon sunlight.

Only she isn’t really picking Rio. 

She’s picking the way she feels accomplished when she comes home from the warehouse or the way she feels happier without the cloud of her bad marriage hanging over the house. She’s picking how this work has given her a purpose again now that her kids were too old to want her help.

Looking back at Dean, she takes in the man she’d pledged herself to for over half her life and she knows he won’t care about any of that though or how even if they turn Rio in there’s no guarantee he won’t sell them out too. 

“There’s no us, Dean, not anymore,” she says instead. “I’m picking me.” 

Dean scoffs, shifting suddenly to pull out his wallet and dig out a business card. He tosses it on the counter before stomping over to grab one of the boxes and opening the side door, letting in a gust of air that makes Beth reach out to grab the card when it almost blows onto the floor.

“I really hope you know what you’re doing, Bethie. I’ll come back later for the rest of my stuff.”

She waits until she hears Dean’s car pull out of the driveway to look down at the card he’d left, running her fingers over the embossed letters.

_James Turner._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to fortunehasgivenup for beta'ing this chapter and for generally being an amazing person. 
> 
> And thank you to everyone at home for reading! I hope you enjoyed it and let me know if you had a fave part!
> 
> Come say hi on tumblr at medievalraven.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

“So what are you going to do?”

“I mean I have to tell him right?” Beth asks, leaning back against the wooden railing of Ruby’s porch and tugging down the sleeves of her sweater to cover her hands, shivering slightly from the cool breeze.

“Let me see the card again,” Ruby says. 

Beth hums, reaching into her jacket pocket to find the business card and passing it over to her, watching as she runs her thumb over the thick black letters slowly then the embossed emblem in the corner, quietly mouthing the words to herself.

Behind her she can hear the soft giggles from where Harry and Sara are playing inside, the low timbre of Stan’s voice as he jokes around with them. And for a second she feels guilty that she’s taken Ruby away from this moment with her family before the feeling morphs into something heavier, a prick of jealousy in the back of Beth’s mind at what she hasn't had in years.

“I can’t not tell him, right?” Beth repeats, shaking her head, willing away the bad memories.

“James Turner, FBI Department of Transnational Organized Crime,” Ruby reads, flipping the card in her hand. “That’s pretty legit.”

Beth laughs, picking at a flaking piece of nail polish on her pinky. “Our tax dollars hard at work.”

“Do you think Dean said anything?”

Sighing, she sits down next to Ruby on the steps, wriggling closer when Ruby opens the blanket around her shoulders in invitation. 

“I don’t know,” Beth says finally, “he almost seemed like he wanted my approval or something first.”

And approval was probably the wrong word she realizes, but there’d been _something_ in his words when he told her about the FBI showing up to the dealership. Like he was waiting for her to fawn over him for saving her from the same life he’d forced her into before he went to this Turner. Needed her praise to push him into taking this last step.

“Of course he did,” Ruby mutters, rolling her eyes and Beth can’t help but smile at how annoyed Ruby sounds. 

Picking the card up again, she runs her finger along the edges, looking out at the sleepy street and slowly changing sky, watching what she thinks is an owl circle the old tree in the yard next door.

“Would it be such a bad thing though?” Ruby asks, voice gentle, soft enough Beth thinks she imagined it for a moment until she feels Ruby squeeze her hand that’s still holding the card, making the edge bite into her palm.

“I just,” Beth starts, letting out a deep breath, “I don’t know how to explain it.”

Ruby nods, rubbing her thumb along Beth’s knuckle, waiting for her to continue and Beth clears her throat, struggling to think of what to say next.

Because this could be her fresh start, a way to put all the last couple months behind her. And she’d been quick to defend Rio to Dean, but it wasn’t as if she’d had the easiest time working for him. This could be her chance to get free from him and his surprises. 

Only, it wasn’t that simple. It never was for her and she couldn’t ignore how much she’d changed these last few months. How she’d broken free from the mold she’d put herself in for years and how she’d finally started to feel like the version of herself she’d always wanted to be or at least the version of herself she’d never known existed before and that she couldn’t bear the idea of losing now.

“I don’t know if I could go back to how it was, not when I know what else is out there.”

 _I don’t know if I can live with that regret_ , she thinks. 

“Then you know what you have to do,” Ruby says, looking over her shoulder when the front door creaks open and Stan steps out onto the porch. 

“Sorry for interrupting you ladies, but the kids were begging for cake and I wanted to see if either of you wanted some too.”

Ruby scoffs, standing up and folding the blanket. “The kids or you, Stanley?”

“Why you gotta call me out like that in front of our guest?” Stan jokes, winking at Beth as he holds the door open wider for them to walk inside before reaching out to grab the blanket from Ruby, giving her a quick kiss when she passes. “Missing the third musketeer tonight?”

Beth smiles, tugging Harry’s shirt when he runs by to get him to slow down, biting the inside of her cheek to stop from laughing over the glare he levels her. “Ben had a debate tournament at school, so Annie’s over there cheering him on. Apparently it’s just her and Gregg since Nancy had an emergency at the spa.”

“Well it’s her loss,” Stan comments. “Because we’re celebrating tonight.”

“Daddy’s gonna be a real cop!” Harry yells, clapping. 

“Congratulations!” Beth says after sucking in a quick breath.

She turns probably a little too swiftly to walk over to the kitchen to help Ruby cut the cake, brushing a hand along Ruby’s arm before busying herself with finding enough forks for them all, willing her heart to stop pounding at Stan’s news. 

“Well it’s just the academy, but if it all goes well, I’ll be out on the streets in about two months,” Stan continues, snapping his fingers at Sara and gesturing for her to put her phone away. 

“You’re going to be great,” Beth replies, picking up a couple plates and carrying them into the dining room, smiling in sympathy when she meets Sara’s eyes as she slides a piece of cake towards her.

“Lucky for me Detroit’s just lousy with crime, huh?”

The sudden clatter of plates makes Beth turn, watching as Ruby bends to pick up the knife she’d dropped, her eyes wide.

“Just fell out of my hand,” she mutters before clearing her throat and joining them at the table, shaking her head when she notices the icing already smeared across Harry’s face.

“At least you have job security then,” Beth jokes weakly, passing Ruby a napkin.

Stan laughs. “I’ll drink to that.” 

—

The warehouse is quiet when Beth walks in with Demon the next morning, only the sound of their footsteps against the concrete echoing around the still half empty space instead of the careful chatter and shuffling she’d come to expect, and if it wasn’t for the soft hum of the dryers churning along the far wall she’d swear they were the only ones there. 

She follows Demon deeper inside, letting him guide her towards the tables where they tested the security stripes on the bills under black lights, a job that always managed to leave her nursing a migraine for the rest of the day and she has to fight back the urge to groan at the apparent assignment. 

Glancing over her shoulder, she sees Marisol organizing bills alone at another table, but there’s no sign of Rio anywhere, a realization that makes Beth's chest tighten at the idea of keeping this secret even longer. 

She’d tried to call him last night, sitting alone in her kitchen running through the words she’d practiced on the drive home from Ruby’s while the line trilled. But he never answered, not any of her calls or the couple texts she’d sent. And if she was being honest Beth didn’t know how to feel about any of that, didn’t know which was worse - that his silence was just his way of trying to recalibrate again after their conversation in his bar when he’d shown too much of his hand again, just like after he introduced her to Marcus, or that he just didn’t care enough to answer her. 

“Wait here a second,” Demon grunts, making Beth turn back to look at him, almost running into him from where he’d stopped suddenly. He walks over to a couple guys unloading a new shipment, pointing towards the rolls of wrapping paper she can see poking out the top of a shipping container and Beth sighs, fiddling with the paper bag in her hands while she waits for him to finish. 

And she’s about to walk over to where she saw Marisol earlier, figures Demon will be able to find her easily enough when she notices Dags and Rio talking outside of an office at the top of a staircase to her right, Rio nodding at whatever Dags is saying before slapping his shoulder and going into the office.

Right, Beth thinks, watching Dags stomp down the stairs and disappear outside, well that was the answer to one of her problems. 

Rolling her shoulders, she checks that Demon’s still occupied with the shipment before wandering slowly over to the staircase and climbing the steps as quietly as she can, taking care to soften her step so she doesn’t attract anyone’s attention.

The door’s cracked open slightly, just enough that a sliver of yellow light slices across the metal walkway and Beth pauses outside to take a deep steadying breath, her grip on the paper bag tightening when she hears a chair scrap against the concrete inside, the faint sound of keys clacking on a laptop. Then before she can talk herself out of it, she lifts her hand and knocks gently on the door, stepping inside slowly at Rio’s ‘ _yeah’_.

And she’s not quite sure what she’d expected, the only office she’d ever spent any time in before had been Dean’s at the dealership, but it definitely wasn’t this. 

It isn’t hard for her to guess that the space was originally meant for the foreman of the warehouse, there are windows lining two of the walls giving a full view of the entire production floor and Beth can just make out Demon right where she left him. 

Her eyes skirt over the rest of the space, taking in the yellowing paint, the stains on the ground, the massive desk that Rio’s sitting behind that’s the only real piece of furniture in the entire office and that’s empty save for a sleek silver laptop. 

It’s all so cold, she thinks idly, so impersonal, and she can’t help but wonder if Rio ever feels lonely up here. If he ever stands by the windows and watches everyone working below, laughing amongst themselves, if he ever pulls up that picture of Marcus on his phone and remembers, if he - 

“Somethin’ you need, darlin’?”

Beth jumps, turning back to see Rio watching her, eyebrows raised. 

“You want the grand tour?”

“No,” Beth says, clearing her throat and ignoring the blush she can feel heating her cheeks, she drops the paper bag on his desk. “I just wanted to give you this.”

Rio narrows his eyes, clearly unconvinced, but he still reaches out to grab the bag, looking inside and chuckling when he pulls out a container with two cupcakes. “This the reason you called me eighty times last night?”

Beth shrugs. “I had some extra and thought Marcus might like a treat.”

And it wasn’t a lie exactly. There had been extra cupcakes after Beth had finished baking for Annie and it wasn’t like she didn’t think Marcus deserved something special. But maybe she’d also hoped the gift would lessen the blow of the news she had to deliver. 

Rio nods, smiling slightly before shaking his head and sticking the container back in the bag. 

“Actually there’s something else.”

“Is that right?” Rio asks, leaning back in his chair and interlacing his fingers, resting them on his lap. 

“Dean, my ex-, well you actually met him before at the dealership,” Beth starts, running her fingers along the seam of the chair in front of her to avoid looking at Rio. “He might have mentioned last night that the FBI had stopped by to ask him questions about some counterfeit money they found.”

Rio hums, reaching up to tug the hem of his beanie down lower on his head to cover the top of his ears before turning to type something on his laptop, seemingly unfazed by what Beth had just told him. 

“ _Your_ money,” Beth adds when Rio still doesn’t say anything. And of all the ways she’d thought this would go, from Rio yelling at her to Rio making them all pack up the warehouse in a panic, this silence hadn’t even crossed her mind. 

“Don’t worry, I made sure he won’t say anything,” Beth says, edging a little closer to Rio and glancing at the open laptop. “I just thought you’d want to know.”

She watches him enter a few numbers into a color-coded spreadsheet, flicking between different tabs with ease, and there’s something about his expression, how unaffected he is by what she’s said that reminds her a little of Dean and then before she can stop herself she’s reaching over and closing the laptop, Rio’s hands sliding out just in time.

“I’m sorry, but do you really not care if the FBI knows about your whole little operation?”

Rio lets out a sharp exhale, dragging his hand along his jaw as he looks at where Beth’s hand is still resting on the laptop, and Beth squares her shoulders, ready for the blowback. 

“It ain’t the first time they been lookin’ around and trust me they don’t know anything. I’m not the only game in town either.”

He reaches out to slowly move her hand away, the smooth black metal of what she thinks is a new ring framing his index finger. 

Beth sighs, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, clocking the way Rio’s gaze seems to follow the movement and linger on her face, how his eyes soften.

“Look, you don’t do this as long as I have without havin’ a system in place and mine’s the reason why no feds have ever come bangin’ down my door. So your dumbass ex is gonna have a whole ‘nother problem if he does talk.” 

Beth nods, smiling weakly. She takes a couple steps away from the desk, pausing by the windows to look out over the warehouse to see if Demon’s still distracted enough that she can slip back unnoticed. 

She’d thought it seemed empty when she came in earlier, but from this angle it’s hard to miss the lack of people bustling around, how few storage containers are piled near the far wall, how few sheets of money are hanging to dry after going through the chemical wash. 

“Did you ever figure out your problem with that distributor?” 

Rio makes a soft noise in response, his attention back on the spreadsheets and Beth watches him for a second, waiting to see if he’ll actually respond before looking out the window again, eyes following the lone man adding stacks of money into the dryers. 

“Have you ever thought about making your own money? Cut out the middleman?”

Rio laughs. “Weren’t you listenin’ when I said I got a system?”

“Seems like you got a problem,” Beth mumbles, turning to see Rio rock his jaw back and forth, the movement making the wings of his tattoo shift as if about to take flight. 

“You know there’s a place in town that specializes in printing,” she says. “They’re pretty good.”

Closing his laptop, Rio drums his fingers on the desk for a second, the sound filling the small office, before moving to stand next to Beth at the window. 

“This ain’t exactly the kind of shit you get from an inkjet.”

Beth huffs, rolling her eyes. “Yes I’m aware, thank you. They have an actual printing press.”

“Oh do they?” Rio asks, tone mocking, crossing his arms over his chest. “You got this whole thing planned out then?”

“Well no, I -”

“What kinda paper you gonna use? What about the ink? Who’s gonna do the printing?” Rio continues. 

“Okay!” Beth says. “I get it. It was just an idea.”

Rio smirks. “See that’s the thing, Elizabeth. You gotta think through these ideas, who you’re workin’ with, how each little piece fits together, ‘cause if you don’t that’s how you end up doing ten-to-twenty in some shithole prison upstate.”

Beth bristles, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from saying something she’ll regret later. 

“It’s not bad,” he adds, leaning back against the edge of the desk, stretching his legs out, the edge of his foot tapping against Beth’s boot. “But not bad isn’t good enough.”

It’s quick then, how the words, the implication that she wasn’t good enough, dig under her skin and coalesce into something bigger, something stronger. And she’s about to open her mouth to argue when there’s a knock at the door and Demon walks in. 

“Hey, Big Mike fucked up again.”

“Yeah?” Rio says, tearing his gaze from Beth to look at where Demon’s standing just inside the doorway. “Why don’t you get her set-up and I’ll give him a call.”

Beth blinks, recognizing when she’s been dismissed and she pushes past Rio and Demon to head back downstairs, but then just as she’s shutting the door she swears she hears Rio say, “There’s something else.”

—

He’s not smiling.

That’s the first thing she notices when the page finally loads. 

And it makes sense she guesses, scrolling down a little to read through all the awards he’d been given, that the Midwest regional lead for the Department of Transnational Organized Crime wouldn’t be smiling in his official staff photo. 

God she can only imagine the stuff he’s seen, the neighborhoods torn apart, the violence that destroys families, it has to do something to a person.

She hadn’t planned on looking him up, this James Turner. 

Ruby had thought she was crazy when she told her that, shaking her head in disbelief when Beth asked her to stop typing his name into google. There was just something about seeing what he looked like and knowing that he was an actual person that was just too much for her, made everything too real. 

But then - well then her talk with Rio had made her feel like she didn’t need to worry about him. And she’d almost forgotten about him, too distracted by getting the kids ready for their first long stay with Dean at Judith’s, but she’d been looking for her favorite lipstick in her purse earlier only to come up with the business card instead and her curiosity had gotten the best of her.

It was just due diligence on her part to see who this person was so she could let Rio know if he showed up again, that’s just what good employees did. Or good whatever she was to him. 

“Whoa who’s the stud? Did you actually join one of those dating sites I sent you?”

Beth gasps, turning to see Annie standing behind her, wiggling her eyebrows as she peers at the laptop over Beth’s shoulder. 

“Which one did you pick?” Annie asks, rounding the couch to sit next to Beth, kicking off her shoes before tucking her feet under Beth’s legs. “Because let me tell you, they don’t make them like that on bumble. Maybe my age range just isn’t high enough? What did you put? 45 and under?”

“It’s not a dating site,” Beth mutters, sliding the laptop further away when Annie makes to grab it, looking at Turner’s photo again quickly before closing the window so the only thing on the screen is the picture of the kids she had as the background. 

And the thing is Annie’s not wrong. He is handsome, younger than she’d have thought too, in his three piece suit and she doesn’t know if that fact makes the whole thing better or worse. 

“Plus a government job?” Annie continues, letting out a low whistle. “Damn, you better lock that shit down.”

“Did you actually need something?” 

“Just bringing back your containers. I would have just kept them but Ben insisted,” Annie says, nodding towards the kitchen and even in the low light of the living room Beth can just make out something dark on Annie’s neck, peeking out from her turtleneck. “I really don’t get that kid sometimes, too much like you.”

Beth laughs, leaning forward to put her laptop on the coffee table, trying to angle it to avoid her half-full cup of coffee only to knock over the small pile of papers she’d had stacked near the edge instead, scattering them across the floor. 

“Real smooth,” Annie jokes, bending to pick up a couple of the pages, shuffling through them as she reads them over. “What is all this stuff anyway?”

“It’s nothing, just something I was looking into,” Beth replies. 

“Hold on a second,” Annie says, picking up the job application Beth had printed from the Paper Porcupine’s website. “Does this mean what I think it means?”

Rolling her eyes, Beth grabs the papers from Annie and tucks them under the laptop, ignoring the smile growing on her sister’s face. 

“So you’re done with the gang then? How did that even happen? I thought Dean’s debt was like as big as his ego.”

Beth sighs, picking up her coffee cup and padding softly to drop it in the sink, pulling the stopper to let the water gather and soak the dishes. “Not exactly.”

“Okay, I mean tell me what happened then,” Annie prompts, leaning over the back of the couch to watch Beth putter around the kitchen. 

“It’s just a new opportunity that I’ve been exploring,” Beth says.

“A new opportunity,” Annie repeats, making air quotes with her fingers. She pitches forward suddenly to move Beth’s laptop and shuffle through the papers again, and Beth winces when she sees how some of the pages are getting bent and crumpled.

She turns to unpack the cupcake containers and drop them in the soapy water instead, needing the distraction only to glance over her shoulder when Annie snorts, her rainbow nails so stark against the white paper of the printing press instructions she’s holding up. 

“Really?”

And it had taken Beth almost a week to find that, finally getting lucky when she found a dissertation on mid-century printing methods that included the manual as a source. 

It actually had become a bit of an obsession for her, proving Rio wrong by figuring out how Paper Porcupine could work in the long term as a distribution system.

She was close too, the manual had been the biggest piece of the puzzle and after that everything else had just fallen into place. There were only a couple small details she had to work through, but then she could go back to Rio and show him that she was capable of coming up with great plans despite what he might think.

“Oh my god, you can’t be serious,” Annie adds, furrowing her brows as she looks back at the laptop quickly before turning to narrow her eyes at Beth.

“What?”

“Please tell me this new opportunity doesn’t involve the violent gang you were tricked into working for,” Annie huffs, tossing the papers back on the coffee table and walking over to the kitchen.

“I wasn’t tricked into working for them.”

“Okay, sure,” Annie laughs, winking.

Beth exhales, the sound a little unsure and shaky. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know I just never thought you’d be the kind of person who needed a man this badly. I mean Dean’s been gone for what two weeks and you’re already happily helping what’s his name find new ways to counterfeit his money?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you fucking him too? Because I hope for your sake you’re at least getting something out of this arrangement.”

Beth sputters, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“I’m sorry, are we still talking about me?”

“Well I’m not the one trying to impress some gangbanger.”

“No, you’re just the one sleeping with your married ex. Unless that hickey’s from someone else?” Beth asks, nodding at the fading bruise on the underside of Annie’s jaw, raising her eyebrows when Annie’s hand lifts to cover the spot.

And Beth almost regrets saying it as soon as she sees the wobble of Annie’s bottom lip, the glassiness of her eyes, but before she can add anything else Annie’s striding over to grab her shoes from the living room and yanking open the side door.

“Annie -”

“No, don’t,” Annie interrupts, holding up her hand. “Guess we’re not that different after all, huh?”

She slams the door behind her and Beth watches it for a minute, then two, until she’s sure Annie isn’t coming back, before finally turning and walking over to pick up the papers off the ground.

—

She can hear the music pounding before she even walks in. Something in a language she doesn't recognize and enough bass that she can feel it pulsing in her chest.

In the darkness it seems so different from the bar she’d stumbled on after that lunch with Ruby and Annie weeks ago. All sharp angles and young bodies and shadows instead of fading sunlight and empty bar tops, and it’s almost enough to make Beth reconsider this plan. 

She pushes past a group of women in pink sashes doing shots, smiling hesitantly at the blonde in a glittery veil before looking around the bar for any sign of Rio. 

It all seems silly now, her searching for him here instead of waiting to talk to him in the morning, but she couldn’t wait, not after she’d finally figured out the last piece in how Paper Porcupine could work, Kenny’s stained hockey uniform helping to connect all the dots. She’d been in her car driving to the warehouse before she could talk herself out of it, pulling into the bar when she noticed his massive SUV parked on the street while she was idling at a red light. 

A shout from the back of the bar draws her attention and she watches a group of men in suits cheers their new round of beers, trying to wrangle the server into doing a shot with them until she manages to squirm away from them, revealing Rio nursing a drink on the far end of the counter, alone. 

Rolling her shoulders, Beth makes her way to his side, sliding onto the somehow empty stool next to him and dropping her purse on the counter. 

“Bleach.”

“Yeah, pretty sure they don’t serve that here, sweetheart,” Rio drawls on an exhale, turning to take her in before shaking his head, the ghost of a smile tugging on his lips. 

“Obviously,” Beth quips, glancing over her shoulder to check no one was paying attention to them before reaching into her pocket, pulling out the bill she’d washed and dropping it in front of him. “Bleach.”

Rio raises his eyebrows, rolling his glass in his hands as he looks at the bill, half covered with ink and half blank. 

She’d figured it by accident, that bleach helps to break up the ink used on money after she’d forgotten to check Kenny’s pockets while doing a load of laundry, only finding the now spotted bills after pulling the clothes from the dryer. 

And it’d been a bit of trial and error from there, trying to see what else she had that could help take off the ink without damaging the actual paper, cycling through all the chemicals under her sink until she found the winning combo in her medicine cabinet. 

“What’s this?”

“You said I don’t think things through, this is me thinking things through,” Beth says, pushing the bill a little closer to Rio. He narrows his eyes at the movement, downing the rest of his drink before resting his forearms on the counter and adjusting his position on the stool. 

The moment seems to drag on forever, both of them staring at the bill as the bar rages on around them until finally Rio sighs and picks it up, running his fingers over the front as he inspects it. 

“Bleach?”

“Well bleach, nail polish remover, and hydrogen peroxide,” Beth says, leaning a little closer to Rio to be heard over the music, smiling when he nods and angles the bill closer to the light, casting a shadow on his face. “But yes.”

Rio hums, sucking in his cheeks as he scratches at the bill. 

And it’s only then, when she’s so focused on his reaction to the money, that she notices how casually he’s dressed. Not that he’s ever not dressed casually, but there’s just something different about him tonight in his dark green henley, tattoo fully on display, sleeves rolled up enough to show off a couple thin black leather bands on his wrists, the glint of a silver chain around his neck. He could almost be just any other guy at a bar on a Thursday night, looking for company or a drink, she thinks.

Almost.

“How long it take you to figure that out?”

“Not long,” Beth preens, rolling her eyes when Rio tucks the bill in his pocket.

“A’ight let's go then.”

“Wait, go where?” Beth asks, the fuzzy edge of dread working its way up her spine as she watches Rio shrug on his jacket and toss a couple twenties on the counter before heading into the crowd.

He pauses at the door for a second, leaving it propped open with his shoulder, typing something on his phone, and Beth scrambles to grab her purse, squeezing awkwardly through all the people to meet him outside. 

—

“This isn’t the way to the warehouse.”

“Maybe ‘cause we’re not goin’ there,” Rio says, voice cutting through the silence of the car and Beth almost wishes he’d put on music to distract her as he turns down a small side street. 

“Then where are we going?” Beth asks, watching dark storefronts pass by through the window, squinting a little to read the sign outside a cafe when they stop at a light.

There’s something about the neighborhood that feels familiar, like maybe she’s been here before but she can’t put her finger on it, not when Rio keeps to alleyways instead of main streets. 

“You’re really not going to tell me?” Beth adds when he doesn’t respond, shifting in her seat to look at him, willing away the panic she can feel building in her chest the longer he drives. Maybe she’d shown her hand too early by telling him about the money and this was his way of tying up a loose end. 

And she’s about to pull out her phone to check where they are when Rio pulls into a small gravel parking lot and cuts the engine.

“C’mon.”

He slides out of the car, slamming the door behind him, and Beth startles when he opens the trunk, grabbing something and disappearing again. She stares at where he’d been for a minute before slowly dropping her purse to the floor and following him outside, pausing when she rounds the hood of the car and sees the oversized woodland animals mural on the side of the building, the words Paper Porcupine written underneath in a neat cursive.

“I don’t get it,” Beth says, narrowing her eyes at Rio when she finally meets him by the front door. “How did you even know that this was the place I was talking about?”

Rio laughs, the fabric of his bomber jacket rustling and scraping against the brick when he rolls his shoulders before pushing off the column he was leaning against to stand closer to Beth.

“So tell me about this plan of yours, how’s all this work then?”

Clearing her throat, Beth takes a small step back from Rio before gesturing awkwardly at the door, closing her eyes when she notices her reflection in the glass, Rio’s looming just behind her. 

“Well it turns out they’re hiring a cashier to help with closing, which means we could have access to their printing press at night. Then it’s just a matter of mixing the chemicals and actually printing the money.”

“Is that right?”

Beth shrugs. “That’s it.”

“Cool,” Rio says, turning and tugging on the door handle briefly, nodding to himself before sliding a piece of metal out of his pocket and crouching down to look at the lock.

“Wait, what are you doing?” 

“Forgot my keys at home,” Rio mumbles, pushing the metal into the lock and twisting. “Keep a lookout, yeah?”

“But -” she starts, the rest of her question cut short when Rio gives her an unimpressed look. “Fine.”

She huffs out a breath, moving to see the whole road better, eyes searching the darkness for any sign of movement, half-heartedly listening to the low thrum of a train ambling past nearby, the clink of metal on metal, the soft noises Rio’s making behind her.

And for a second, maybe two, she almost forgets what they’re doing here, losing herself to the night, the quiet, the still.

It takes Rio a lot longer than she’d have expected to pick the lock, long enough that Beth can feel the cold start to seep in through her boots and she’s about to make a comment about how he should just pull up a video to help him when she catches the headlights of a car turning onto the street, the Detroit Police Department logo emblazoned on the side flashing by when they pass under a streetlight. 

And shit.

“Rio,” she hisses, frantic, reaching back and grabbing his jacket, tugging harder when he tries to pull free from her grasp to re-angle the metal. “Seriously stop!”

Rio huffs, shaking his head before turning to look over his shoulder, mouth open to say something, and she can see the moment he clocks the police car too because suddenly he’s on his feet, dragging her further down the building and pressing himself against her.

“What are you doing?” 

“Oh I’m sorry, did you wanna get busted?” Rio asks, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her in tighter. “Just play along, Elizabeth.”

He glances over his shoulder again quickly, squinting as he watches the car get closer, and then Beth can’t help the yelp she lets out when he tucks his face into her neck.

And it’s just - it’s a lot, and it all immediately overwhelms her.

 _He_ overwhelms her. 

The wet sticky heat of his breath on her skin, the scratch of his beard when he leans in closer, the faint scent of tobacco and vanilla from his cologne, the way one of his hands rubs along her back. 

And it’s been so long since she was this close to anyone, since she felt this paralyzed by someone’s presence. 

Out of the corner of her eye she can see the headlights get bigger, brighter as the car drives further down the road, and she finally lifts her hands to settle on Rio’s shoulders, fingers curling in the slick fabric.

“Gotta do better than that,” Rio murmurs, squeezing her hip lightly to get her to loosen up. 

Beth nods slowly, the movement dragging Rio’s beard along her neck, reminding her oddly of that first night they met, when she’d stopped him from leaving before she had made her deal, how her fingers had burned wanting to trail through the hair hiding his jaw.

Only now the memory burns differently, settling deeper in Beth’s bones until it builds in her stomach, an ache she can’t stop, especially not now when he’s so close to her. 

Every part of him pressing against every part of her like they were one. 

Sucking in a wet breath, she unconsciously widens her stance just enough to let him move between her legs, even closer than before, rolling her hips slightly to feel the hard line of him, whimpering when his hands tighten on her waist and he responds in kind, breath stuttered.

And she’s about to pull him in closer, wants him to melt into her until he’s all she knows, all she ever wants to know, when she feels a bright light on her face. 

“Hey! How about you two take that somewhere else?”

Rio exhales, slowly untangling himself from her, biting her neck gently as he pulls back, and she swears he ghosts a kiss to the spot too, but it’s too quick and he’s gone from her before she can realize what’s going on. 

“Sorry man!” Rio says, smiling as he waves at the officer standing next to the police car, his flashlight pointed at them. “She just makes it hard to resist, you know?”

The officer shakes his head, turning to look at Beth, eyebrows raised as if to check she was okay.

Clearing her throat, Beth takes a step forward to wrap her arm around Rio, ignoring the way he seems to tense at the gesture. “It won’t happen again, officer.”

“Maybe next time find somewhere indoors? Somewhere a little more private?”

“You got it,” Rio replies.

The officer stands there watching them for another moment, and he looks like he’s about to say something else when a squawk over his radio pulls his attention and he finally clicks off his flashlight before climbing back in the car, driving away. 

“Shit,” Rio laughs, ducking out from her arm to wander over to the door, picking up the metal jimmy from where he’d dropped it and going back to work like nothing had happened.

And Beth lets herself follow the twists and turns of Rio’s wrists as he picks at the lock before shifting to lean back against the wall, raising one of her hands to touch the raw skin on her neck where he’d just been, eyes focused on the night sky.

She should probably be keeping watch again, make sure the officer doesn’t circle back to check if they’ve actually left, but she can’t find it in herself to care, not when her nerves still feel so charged, not when his touch is so fresh.

So instead she grounds herself in the stars just like when she was younger. 

It had been their escape, hers and Annie’s when things got to be too much in their house, their way of pretending that everything was okay. 

They’d sneak out the bedroom window and lay on the old plaid blanket Beth had stolen from their aunt, the blades of grass pricking their arms through the fabric while they pointed out the different constellations or made up new ones that were just theirs. It was the one constant, the one good thing in their lives for years, especially when their dad left and their mom, well, she had left too in her own way. 

Beth sighs, kicking the gravel with the toe of her boot before scanning the darkness again, trying to piece together the stars into a pattern she recognized. 

“You good?”

“Yeah,” Beth says, smiling when Rio comes to stand next to her, tilting his head to look at the sky too. “Just thinking about my sister.”

Rio nods, and when he doesn’t move away she adds, “It’s stupid really, but we had a fight the other day and she used to say we were like the Big and Little Dipper.”

She’d announced it the night before Beth’s wedding to Dean. They’d been laying on that same old blanket, mosquitos biting at their ankles, and she’d turned to Beth giggling when she said that was them, big and little sister, Big and Little Dipper. 

Beth had pulled her closer, so aware in that moment that she was leaving her behind to live in that house, whispering that just like the stars they’d always be together forever. 

“And I always said my love for her was like the North Star, nothing could hide it away, not clouds, not darkness. It would always be there to guide her forward and bring her home.”

She wonders if Annie remembers any of that, if she’s looking at the same sky thinking about her. If she knows how much Beth wishes she could take back what she’d said that night. 

“Sorry, just nevermind,” Beth mumbles, meeting Rio’s eye, regret already flooding her. 

He studies her slowly, lips pursing slightly as something she can’t name flashes across his face, softening him, before he looks away and lifts his chin at the now open door.

“After you.”

\--

“And does this come in that blue gingham pattern you showed me earlier?”

“We’d have to special order it for you unfortunately,” Beth says, flipping through the catalogue to find another design and turning the book to show the customer. “But these are almost exactly the same at half the price and we have it in stock, so you could take them home today.”

The woman nods, putting on a pair of wire-rimmed glasses to read over the description, and Beth uses the time to pull up a new order form on the register, typing in all the customer details and selecting the new design.

In the end her plan had worked perfectly, or as close to perfectly as anything in her life had. 

She and Rio had walked through the dark store together, going over the printing press, the security setup, how operations would work, and he’d looked almost impressed by the whole thing, telling her ‘ _now don’t fuck up the interview_ ’ when he dropped her back at the bar.

The only real problem they’d run into was getting the plate. 

Beth had wanted to wait to ask Lucy for her help, work at the store for just a couple weeks, maybe a month, to build the trust between them before casually seeing if she’d be able to design the template, a strategy that left Rio rolling his eyes one night when they’d been experimenting with cleaning a pile of dollar bills he’d brought, before threatening to send in one of his guys to speed up the process if she didn’t handle it sooner. 

So Beth had invited Lucy out for lunch, dropping the bait of needing some design help for a church event in between stories of her kids and Lucy’s trip to Chicago with her boyfriend, and then later that afternoon she was the owner of a shiny new ten dollar bill plate.

It’d all been easy, and even though they were still working out some kinks in the actual printing process (like how to make the ink look more orange than pink), she’d never felt more proud to see something she’d thought up come together so well.

“Wait, is this cornflower blue or powder blue?”

“Cornflower,” Beth replies, smiling at Lucy when she rounds the counter, clipboard clutched awkwardly against her chest.

“Hey, Beth, sorry to interrupt but there’s someone here to see you and it seemed kind of important.”

“Oh, really?” Beth asks, glancing around the store. There were a couple customers milling around, but no one who she thought needed her that urgently.

Brushing past her, Lucy slides the clipboard under the counter, laughing when Beth reaches out to tuck the tag back into the collar of her dress.

“Yeah, he’s waiting in Mr. Fitzpatrick’s office for you.”

“Thanks,” Beth says, looking over at the closed door across the store. “Do you mind finishing up Mrs. Howard’s order?”

Lucy hums, already reading over the details on the screen, and Beth takes a deep breath before slowly walking over to the office and stepping inside.

“Ah, there she is! Well I’ll leave you two to it then,” Mr. Fitzpatrick remarks, squeezing Beth’s arm as he heads out the door. “Lovely to meet you Agent Turner!”

And maybe it had been too easy, Beth realizes, squaring her shoulders slightly when Turner‘s gaze falls on her.

“Jim Turner, FBI,” he says, nodding towards one of the oversized velvet armchairs next to Mr. Fitzpatrick’s desk. “Please have a seat.”

Beth smiles, sliding on her best customer-service face before sitting down and smoothing out the wrinkles on her skirt, ignoring the spike of anxiety she can feel winding inside her.

“I’m sorry to bother you at work, Mrs. Boland, but I just had some questions I was hoping you could help me out with,” Turner comments, settling back in Mr. Fitzpatrick’s chair. “Did your husband happen to mention that I spoke with him a few weeks ago?”

“Dean’s not my husband,” Beth replies, then clearing her throat she adds, “I mean we’re just in the middle of a divorce.”

“Oh really? That’s too bad.” Turner nods, taking his phone out of his pocket and scrolling through something, a small grin crossing his face when he must find what he’s looking for. “Tell me, do you recognize this man?”

And it suddenly feels like her heart’s in her throat because there on Turner’s phone is a picture of Rio standing next to his car, beanie in hand.

“I...well…”

Turner chuckles, looking at the picture before swiping to another one, this time showing Rio leaving Paper Porcupine a couple days earlier, jacket unbuttoned to show a black sweater underneath and Beth remembers how she made a comment about it as he was leaving, earning her a rare smile as he slipped out the door.

“That’s here right? Looks like the same building to me at least.”

Beth nods, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, and there has to be something she can say to keep Turner off their tracks, something to convince him it was nothing out of the ordinary that Rio would be around the store. 

“So have you seen him around?”

And then she notices the framed photo sitting on the edge of Mr. Fitzpatrick’s desk, the happy faces looking back at her. 

And then she knows exactly what to say. 

She just hopes she can survive the fallout.

“Of course I have, Agent Turner. He’s my boyfriend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forever thankful to the lovely fortunehasgivenup for listening to me ramble about this story and beta'ing for me. She's the actual best.
> 
> Also forever and ever thankful to all of you for reading, kudos'ing, and commenting. It means so much to me and I am so incredibly appreciative of everyone.
> 
> And potentially exciting news! As I was writing this chapter I accidentally discovered a whole new mini-arc for this fic and because of this the fic will now definitely be longer than 10 chapters! I don't know how long it will be yet, but suspect we're going to be pushing about 13-14 chapters total (but until I know I'm going to keep the chapter count at 10). I can't wait to share it all with you!


	6. Chapter 6

“You told him we were fuckin’?”

“Would you keep your voice down?” Beth hisses, looking over at the neighbor’s house. The last thing she needs now is Shelley Johnson overhearing this conversation and making it the talk of the block like she did when Dean moved out. “And what was I supposed to do? Pretend I didn’t know you? He had a picture of _you_ outside the store.”

Rio just laughs harder, throwing his head back enough that Beth can see the full expanse of the eagle on his neck in the sunlight, noticing for the first time that the tip of the wing almost brushes against his ear, and she wonders briefly how long it took to do, if it hurt.

“Can you take this seriously?” she adds, the prick of irritation grating at her nerves.

And really this whole thing was his fault in the first place. If he’d just listened to her when she told him about Turner sniffing around Dean and god knows who else, if he’d actually cared about the gravity of the situation, then maybe she wouldn’t have had to lie to a federal agent. 

Rio hums, still chuckling softly to himself as he shifts slightly on top of the picnic table.

“He believe you?”

“I think so,” Beth sighs. “I mean he definitely asked a lot of questions about us.”

At least he had after he’d gotten over his shock of Beth calling Rio her boyfriend, and it’d been almost funny, seeing how quickly he lost all that bravado he’d had when she’d walked in with just a couple words from her.

A powerful man brought to his knees, if only for a few moments.

“Yeah? What’s the story then?”

“The story?”

Rio lets out a sharp exhale, rolling his shoulders slowly in a move that Beth’s starting to recognize from their late nights working side-by-side as his attempt at tempering his frustrations.

“Whatever you told the fed. We’re only gonna have problems if we don’t say the same shit.”

Beth nods, clearing her throat as she tries to remember the full extent of the lie she’d woven. 

“He wanted to know how we met, how someone like me ended up with…” she pauses, looking at Rio beside her, clocking the clench of his jaw, how stiff he’s gotten before moving on. “I said we’d met because our kids played on the same soccer team, that it was still new but you’d been keeping me company when I had to close the store.”

“Keepin’ you company, huh?”

“And that we’d been trying to keep it quiet,” Beth continues, ignoring Rio and the flush she can feel blossoming on her chest, “because I didn’t want to rush into anything so soon after my divorce.”

Rio smirks, his gaze finally leaving her to sweep across the yard instead.

And it’s moments like this, the quiet, the in-between, that make Beth realize how little she actually knows Rio. 

How after all these months she still can’t predict anything he’ll do or say while he just seems to get better at reading her. How she can’t even see where the walls around him end while he’s the first person to ever scale hers and make himself right at home.

“I know it’s not ideal,” Beth says when it becomes clear he isn’t going to add anything of his own.

“No shit,” Rio bites, finally betraying his real feelings before exhaling deeply. “But it could have been a whole lot worse.”

“So you’re okay with all this then?” 

“Don’t really got a choice.” Rio shrugs. “You actually gotta be careful now though.”

Beth tenses.

“ _Me_?”

Rio purses his lips slightly, glancing over his shoulder for a second before leaning closer to Beth.

“Yeah, ma, ‘cause you told him that we’re together, not that this was some kinda revenge fuck and we never saw each other again. This Turner’s been lookin’ for a way to get to me for a long time and you just became his way in.”

“Or he’ll leave us alone now thanks to my cover,” Beth bristles. 

Rio laughs, but the sound isn’t free and easy like it was just minutes ago. He slides off the picnic table, tucking his hands into the pockets of his hoodie before moving to stand in front of her, blocking the sun so all she could see was the outline of him.

“We’ll see about that, huh?”

And then he’s gone, halfway across the yard before Beth can even think of a response. 

\--

“Wait, can he even do that?”

“That’s the perk of owning your own business,” Ruby says, rolling her eyes. “I’m sorry but if your dumbass can’t figure out that a _sizzling_ platter is going to be hot then you don’t deserve an apology.”

Beth shakes her head, topping off Ruby’s wine then her own before going back to cutting vegetables for the kids’ dinner, trying to get them fine enough that she could hide them in the pasta without Jane noticing. 

“Do you know how close I was to telling that kid off too? God if we hadn’t just found out that they moved Sara to the top of the transplant list that kid would have gotten it.”

“How is she doing?” Beth asks, turning to add the pieces to the casserole. She’d looked a little ashen when Beth had been over for dinner all those weeks ago, her once bright eyes dulled of any curiosity, any mischief.

“She loves the quilt you made.” Ruby says, smiling, but it fades quickly, so fast that Beth thinks maybe Sara isn’t the only one to lose her brightness. 

“I wish I could do more.”

Ruby sighs.

“You and me both. But it’s not like you haven’t had your hands full, babe.”

Beth laughs, and her eyes slide to the calendar hanging on the fridge out of habit more than anything else, taking in the lines of red detailing the kids’ schedules, the blue listing her shifts at Paper Porcupine, the tiny rose stickers reserved for a different kind of late night work.

And she’s sure Rio would have a lecture ready if he knew about that one, something about how she needed to not leave a paper trail or bread crumbs or whatever convoluted metaphor he was favoring that week. But she couldn’t help herself, couldn’t resist documenting what was happening and seeing how it blended into the rest of her life so seamlessly.

“Speaking of,” Ruby starts, drawing Beth’s focus again, her voice deceptively casual as she runs her finger along the rim of her glass, “have you talked to your sister lately?”

Beth huffs, spinning to put the casserole in the oven instead of dealing with whatever look Ruby’s leveling at her, taking her time to check all the settings before picking up the loaf of bread she’d made earlier and carefully slicing it. Ruby snorts, and Beth prepares herself for the latest veiled plea at reconciliation when the thud of a car door slamming draws her to the window to see Dean unloading the kids’ overnight bags from his trunk.

“Y’all are exhausting,” Ruby mumbles, jumping slightly when the side door swings open and Emma and Jane come running through the kitchen, calling out for Buddy.

“Hey! Don’t forget to take off your shoes!” Beth yells after them, grimacing at the dirt she can already see tracked over the hardwood before looking back at Ruby. “You know, she hasn’t reached out to me either.”

Ruby hums, opening her mouth to reply when Dean suddenly walks into the kitchen and places the girls’ backpacks near the stairs.

“So Kenny’s spending the night at Todd’s house. His mom’ll drop him off in the morning.”

Beth nods, catching Ruby’s eye before looking back to where Dean’s now standing by the door, a folded manila envelope in his hands. He shuffles awkwardly, almost unsure of himself, and it’s enough to her stop and take a deep breath.

“Everything go okay this week?”

“Yeah, I just -” Dean pauses, glancing down at the envelope briefly then Ruby, who just scoffs, muttering _‘guess I’ll be heading out then’_ before grabbing her purse and side-stepping Dean to leave. 

“Did you need something?”

Dean clears his throat and takes a step forward to lay the envelope on the counter, sliding it to her.

“I couldn’t really afford a lawyer, but I think this is pretty fair.”

The seal breaks easily under Beth’s finger and she pulls the papers out far enough to see the words _petition for divorce_ typed across the top, her name listed just underneath.

And it’d been what she wanted, what she still wants, but it feels different than she’d expected. Less momentous somehow. Twenty years of her life over with just five pieces of paper and a notary stamp.

“I want to make this as easy as we can for the kids.”

Beth smiles weakly, her fingertip straightening the paperclip holding the documents together before pushing them back in the envelope.

“I’ll read them over later tonight and let you know if I have any questions.”

Dean nods, and it feels like a weight lifts off her shoulders with the movement. He turns to leave, pulling open the door an inch before stopping and looking back at her.

“Do you think we could have made it work? If I hadn’t...” he trails off, and Beth wonders if it’s because he’s embarrassed or if he just can’t bring himself to admit what he’d done to her, to them.

She eyes the papers again, follows the crease down the middle, the crumbled edges, the black blotch of ink in the corner, and lets out a soft sigh. 

Because she knows what Dean wants her to say, knows him well enough to see that this is his way of gauging if there’s a chance for them in some distant future. That he’s hoping she’ll say that they would have been fine if it wasn’t for these last few months, that he’s not the villain in this story of them.

But it’s not that simple. 

All the lying and cheating did was shine a light on the cracks in their foundation, the hidden caverns and valleys that she’d built her home and life on for years, the fissures that could never be repaired after all this.

And as much as she craves the comfort of the past, the memories of a life that feel so distant now, she could never go back to him knowing that at any point it could all collapse underneath her again, leaving her and her family trapped in the rubble without a means to escape.

“I think we haven’t been happy in a long time and it’s better this way.”

Dean shrugs, like he knew that’s what she’d say, and he hesitates, opening and closing his mouth a couple times as if debating if it’s worth it before finally asking.

“Does he make you happy?”

“Who?”

“The guy with the -” Dean says, gesturing to his neck and it takes Beth a second to realize he’s talking about Rio. “I came by the other day to get the last of my boxes and saw you two out back.”

And it’s odd then, how Dean sounds, how his words lack any of the bitterness she’d come to expect these last few months, as if he was finally resigned to what was happening, what he had caused, and didn’t want to keep fighting a losing battle.

“We’re not -” Beth starts, only to be interrupted by Dean.

“It all makes sense now. The way he talked about you in that meeting when I found out you’d offered to take care of the debt. God even the way he said your name,” Dean laughs. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone call you Elizabeth before.” 

Beth bites the inside of her cheek, resisting the urge to roll her eyes or do anything that could break this rare moment of peace between them. Because really Rio barely likes her now, she’s more of a means to an end than anything else, and she doubts he would have been any nicer back when they first met. 

“I just hope you know what you’re doing, Bethie.”

He exhales softly, wringing his hands, and it’s only then that she can see that he’s finally taken off his wedding band, that he’s standing in front of her without a motive for the first time in years.

“I’ll get these back to you soon,” Beth replies, nodding towards the envelope.

Dean smiles, turning to yell goodbye to the kids before digging his keys out of his pocket and leaving, closing the door loud enough that it brings the girls into the kitchen. 

“Mommy?”

Sliding the envelope off to the side, Beth picks up Jane and squeezes her tightly, wincing when she manages to grab her necklace and snap the chain.

It falls onto the counter softly, a small crumbled pile of gold that hasn’t left Beth’s neck for years, but before she can pick it up again Jane’s leg swings out and knocks it into the sink and down the drain. 

“Oops?”

“You need to be more careful,” Beth chides, tapping the end of Jane’s nose. “Now who wants to help with dinner?”

\--

It’s too peachy. 

They’ve been doing this for weeks now, printing batches and batches of ten dollar bills, attempting to perfect the process, and it was still the wrong color. 

Beth sighs, setting the latest attempt off to the side to be shredded later before digging out the notebook they’d been using to track the color combinations and making a small x next to the ones she’d just used.

It was close at least, but there was still something they were missing, something that she just couldn’t pinpoint and it was driving her crazy. 

Maybe more yellow, she thinks, reading through the long line of notes Rio’s scrawled from their tests earlier in the week, running her fingers over the clustered capital letters and the deep press of ink on paper. She lingers on an ‘E’, feeling a flutter in her stomach when she clocks the shadow of an ‘R’ in the lines, how he’s combined them somehow, made them a part of each other when they shouldn’t be.

“That shit’s too orange.”

And it’s almost embarrassing how much his voice makes her jump, makes her hand lift to press against her chest to calm her breathing. 

Spinning on the stool, Beth glares at Rio, who’s luckily too busy looking over the discarded test bills to even notice her reaction.

“What’d you even use?” he adds, finally meeting her gaze, eyebrows raised.

Beth rolls her eyes, passing the notebook over so he can read about it himself, watching the light catch the gold of a new ring on his hand when he pulls it even closer. Some kind of signet ring she thinks absently as he studies what she’d written, the design masked thanks to the brightness of the room, but she’s sure it wasn’t there the last time she saw him.

He slides onto the stool next to her, dropping a paper bag on the workbench before flipping to a different page and nodding to himself, and Beth just eyes the bag cautiously, trying to remember him mentioning ordering anything else for them to test.

“What’s that?”

Rio grunts, ignoring her question as he pulls out his phone and types something, glancing between the screen and the notebook.

And Beth watches him for a minute, waiting to see if he’ll actually acknowledge her before finally dragging the bag over slowly, giving him the chance to stop her if he wanted, and peeking inside to see a small stack of plastic containers and a ceramic pitcher tucked against the side.

“I don’t get it.”

“You ain’t ever had take-out before?”

“Of course I’ve had…” Beth huffs out, stopping herself when she sees Rio smirk. “I mean, why did you bring it?”

Because this wasn’t a part of their routine. They didn’t do this, share a meal over their fake money, and if there was one thing she knew it was that Rio liked sticking to his routines.

Rio shrugs, writing a quick note on the paper before closing the book and turning to put it away. 

“Had a tail earlier, takin’ pictures and shit.”

He says it like it’s nothing, a mild inconvenience in his day, and god she’d thought he was exaggerating when he said that Turner would still be targeting them, but in the fading light of the day she can see how this charade she’d painted might be what saves them in the end. 

And there’s still a million questions on the tip of her tongue, so many things she wants to know, but instead of asking any of them she just picks up the top container from the bag and lays it on the table carefully, lets herself luxuriate in this lie they’re playing just a little longer before having to confront what’s waiting for them outside those doors, and she swears she can see Rio relax just slightly when he realizes what she’s doing.

There’s no labels on any of the food or the bag, nothing to give her a clue what Rio might have ordered for them, but she’s still surprised when she flips open the lid to see rows and rows of - 

“Sushi?”

“Can’t use chopsticks or somethin’?” Rio says, chuckling when he clocks her expression. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

He helps her unpack the rest of the food, arranging the trays in a specific way that makes no sense to her until the table’s filled with an impressive spread of marbled pink and white, the hint of orange, and Beth just blinks, taking it all in.

“Okay, so which one is the california roll?”

Her question makes Rio drop the piece of ginger he’d been moving to his plate, and it’s probably the first time she’s ever seen him truly caught off-guard, unprepared and unsure of how to respond.

“I’m kidding,” Beth teases, snapping her chopsticks apart, smiling when she notices Rio shaking his head, the ghost of a smile on his face too.

And she’s just picked up some kind of tuna roll when she feels her phone vibrate against her thigh, rattling the metal frame of the workbench and shattering the quiet of the room. 

Mumbling a soft sorry, Beth puts the piece down on her plate before shifting enough to slide the phone out of her pocket, half expecting to see a message from Dean about the kids or even Ruby confirming their lunch plans tomorrow. 

But instead it’s Ben. 

The message is cut off on her lock screen, but she can still see the words _emergency_ and _as soon as you can_ and it’s enough to make her blood run cold. 

“You good?”

“Sorry, it’s just my nephew and I think something happened,” Beth says, and she sounds frantic even to her own ears. “I have to go.”

Rio nods. “A’ight.”

“I’m not sure if I’ll be back,” Beth adds, grabbing her jacket and purse from the hook. 

“Think I can handle it here.”

And there’s something in his tone that she can’t pick out, enough of something to make her stop in the doorway to look back at him alone at the workbench, dinner for two laid out in front of him, the hood of his sweatshirt hiding part of his face from her.

But then her phone vibrates with another message from Ben and she’s gone before she can think anything else about it. 

\-- 

“What happened? Is everything okay? Are you hurt?” 

Beth’s words blur together as she brushes past Ben to enter the apartment, eyes trailing over him to check for any obvious injuries or blood or anything that would need her help. 

He hadn’t responded to any of her messages after she said she was leaving Paper Porcupine, and when Ruby didn’t answer her calls either, Beth had just assumed the worst..

“Well not exactly,” Ben starts only to be interrupted by another voice.

“Hey, was that the door?”

Beth freezes, watching as Annie wanders into the living room, the too-long hem of her pajama pants dragging on the carpet in her wake as she scrolls through something on her phone, and then it’s not exactly hard for her to piece together what’s actually happening based on how much Ben’s suddenly avoiding her gaze.

And honestly she’s surprised it took this long for either Ben or Ruby to try this tactic.

A soft whoosh noise sounds from Annie’s phone and Beth squares her shoulders when Annie finally looks up at her, furrowing her brow in confusion when she sees her standing by the door. 

“What’s going on here?”

Ben groans. 

“Look I don’t know what’s up with you guys, but it’s been weeks and I can't deal with it anymore.”

“Ben -”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re worse than the kids at school and you need to figure it out.” 

He turns to pick up a physics book from the table and pull a chair out into the apartment corridor, narrowing his eyes at Beth and then Annie before closing the door behind him, blocking any possible exit.

“Great,” Annie mumbles, rolling her eyes as she heads to the kitchen, opening the freezer quickly and pulling down a bottle of vodka before grabbing a chipped mug from the sink. She glances over at Beth briefly and waves the bottle at her, tucking it under her arm to pick up another mug when Beth nods. “He’s been watching too much tv lately.”

Beth hums softly, looking at the door longingly for a minute before slowly dropping her purse and taking a seat by Annie.

“Are you forgetting when you locked Ruby and Stan in the closet that one halloween?”

It was junior year and back before Ruby and Stan were Ruby and Stan. And honestly Beth’s still not sure how it even happened or how Stan ended up at the house. She’d gone to pick up dinner for them and came back to find Annie sitting outside the closet and no Ruby in sight. It was almost an hour later when they heard the calls for help and Beth discovered what Annie had done.

“God, you know they never even thanked me,” Annie laughs, pouring some vodka in each mug and handing one to Beth. “They could have at least named Sara after me.”

Beth smiles, taking a sip of her drink, remembering the smear of pink lipgloss on Stan’s collar when they finally got out. 

It’s quiet then, and this was the reason Beth hadn’t reached out to Annie earlier. They’d fought before, more times than she could count, but this was the first time she couldn’t come up with the words to apologize or even what to say that would make Annie understand. 

And really how does she begin to explain the haze that overshadowed everything in her life these last few years, cloaking every corner in monotony and melancholy, suddenly clearing because of one desperate choice?

How does she tell her sister that she was drowning for so long she’d almost forgotten what it felt like to float? To actually swim?

But in the end she doesn’t have to worry about finding the right words. 

“Did he like your plan?”

Beth coughs, the vodka burning the back of her throat at Annie’s soft question.

“What?”

“The printing press or the Macrame Monkey or whatever,” Annie says, tugging her sleeves down to cover her hands, and Beth shifts back on the couch, tucking her leg underneath herself. 

“Does it matter?”

Annie sighs.

“Look, I’m not going to pretend to get whatever this thing is you have with gang boss because it’s literally wild. But it fucking sucks not being able to talk to my sister about her life and I guess I’m trying here.”

It takes Beth a moment to meet Annie’s eyes, and when she does Annie smirks.

“I mean I don’t want to hear about your PTA meetings or Kenny’s swim lessons or -”

Annie yelps, barely dodging the throw pillow Beth tosses at her, grinning when she manages to not spill her drink.

“He liked it,” Beth says, answering Annie’s earlier question, and really she had expected that he’d like it after overhearing enough of Demon’s conversations to piece together that Rio enjoyed experimenting with new things. 

But she hadn’t anticipated just how much he’d actually want to be involved with the whole process and not just delegate it to someone else.

“Well you always were the smart sister,” Annie comments, running her thumb through the fuzzy fabric on the pillow before letting out a quick breath. “And you’re being careful right?”

Beth blinks, hesitating for just a second before finally nodding, and even if she’s not sure that’s the truth anymore it’s enough for Annie.

“Good.”

“How’s everything with Gregg?” Beth asks, needing a change in conversation, something that isn’t focused on her, only judging how Annie suddenly tenses next to her, it wasn’t the best choice.

“It’s complicated,” Annie replies, looking towards the front door briefly before continuing. “Nancy’s pregnant.”

“No,” Beth gasps. 

Annie shrugs, trying to seem unbothered even with the unshed tears in her eyes. 

“He was going to leave her, but I just couldn’t live with that. So it’s whatever, ancient history now.”

Beth leans forward slowly, drawing Annie into a hug, fighting back her own tears when she feels how tightly Annie clings to her. 

“Okay, that’s enough emotions for like a solid month, maybe a year,” Annie says, untangling from Beth and picking up her mug to take over to the sink. “Hey, did you eat yet? Want to stay for pizza?”

“I should probably get back to close the store,” Beth replies, checking her watch. If she left now she could still make it back to Paper Porcupine to work on the latest batch before it got too late, and maybe if she was lucky Rio had left her some food. 

“Fine,” Annie whines. “God I hope that plan of yours at least knocked a couple thousand off what you owe.”

Beth pauses, hand halfway in her purse, watching as Annie bounds over to the front door to knock some kind of odd rhythm before opening it to check on Ben. 

_What she owes._

It’s overwhelming then, how quickly Beth realizes she’d forgotten why this all even started, what led to this moment.

How at some point it stopped being something she had to do or even a debt that had to be repaid, and instead transformed into something more, something that she felt good at, something she looked forward to doing all day, someone she looked forward to ...

_Oh._

“Actually,” Beth calls out, “pizza sounds great.”

\--

When Beth had first come up with the idea of using Paper Porcupine as a front, she never thought she’d actually enjoy the job. Not after all the stories Annie and Ruby had told her over the years about the customers they had to deal with, the requests that bordered on crazy. 

So she’d prepared for the worst, expected it from the moment she’d been hired, only then it never happened. 

There were still the bad customers, the over-expectant, the entitled, but there was also Lucy, who’s probably the kindest person Beth has ever met after Ruby, and the chance to indulge her love of all things crafts. 

It almost makes Beth wish she’d been brave enough to find something years ago, back when the kids were all finally in school together and she was left alone. 

Would things have been different if she had?

“Is that the newest run?”

Beth gasps, dropping the cards she’d been sorting back in the box, scattering all the different designs. 

“Sorry, I thought you saw me,” Mr. Fitzpatrick says, picking up a couple of the cards and shuffling through them, nodding. 

“We finished them up this morning,” Beth replies, clearing her throat, watching as he eyes the cards and then the empty slots on the wall that would soon be their home. 

It was one of the things that Beth loved about Paper Porcupine, all the cards and stationary were designed and manufactured by local artists, including Lucy. Everything purposely chosen to highlight the talents of the community instead of benefiting a major corporation. 

Mr. Fitzpatrick hums, sliding one of the cards into the plastic display before rubbing his hand against the leg of his pants, and Beth just smiles at him, reaching out to start organizing the new inventory again. 

She’d been slowly cataloguing all of his eccentricities since he started here just a few weeks before, making mental notes on how he insisted on being referred to as Mr. Fitzpatrick instead of James to seem more managerial after he inherited the store from his mother, how he spent almost all his time locked in his office, occasionally leaving to check the orders before disappearing for days, anything that she thought she’d need to know in the future, just in case.

“Lucy tells me that you agreed to cover some of her shifts later this month.”

Beth nods, tucking a small pile of cards with a mother and baby duck into a divider before turning to see what envelopes they had in stock, looking for a deep green to pair with the colors of the feathers.

“Always happy to lend a hand.”

Mr. Fitzpatrick chuckles.

“I have to say, I don’t think we’ve ever had an employee with your eagerness to help out before, especially with the closing shifts.”

And it could be just a simple observation, probably would be considered one to anyone else, but Beth swears she can hear the slightest undercurrent of curiosity, the question that laces the words as if he’s trying to figure her out, understand her motivations in light of Turner’s visit to the store.

“I can see why my mother was so insistent on hiring you,” he adds as he grabs a package of red envelopes and slides them behind the cards she’d just shelved.

He lingers for another moment, watching Beth sort the cards and it almost seems like he wants to say something else or wants her to until finally he just smirks and walks back towards his office, leaving her alone surrounded by messages of congratulations and thanks. 

Beth sighs, glancing over at the closed door and back at the boxes waiting to be unpacked, rolling her shoulders before picking up another stack of cards. 

It was probably nothing. 

He was just making conversation and not everything was _something_. She was just on edge, too tired, too emotionally drained to not immediately take the defensive. 

It was definitely nothing.

\--

So she finishes organizing and shelving the cards, breaks down the boxes, makes notes of what would need to be ordered soon, all the things good employees do, and it’s only after she’s submitted the latest inventory summary that she notices Lucy across the floor.

And at first glance it’s nothing out of the ordinary. She’s helping a customer, showing them a catalogue and enough of them is hidden that all Beth can really make out is the long line of a denim clad back, the back of a navy beanie, and she’s about to go check the printer when the customer turns and - 

Beth’s breath catches as she watches Rio smile at Lucy, nodding at something in the catalogue that makes her laugh, both of them oblivious to her staring.

She hadn’t seen him in over a week, not since that night when she left him in the back of the store, and it’s almost surreal to have him here now, especially after she’d been avoiding his calls and texts.

And maybe it was inevitable that he’d show up, check in on her and his operation, but she was hoping that she’d have more time. Even just a couple of days more where she could try to find a name for whatever this thing, this sharpness is she could feel building just under her skin.

It wasn’t like anything she’d ever felt before, nothing like the early days with Dean. Somehow more free, more overpowering than she thought possible, and she’d been able to rationalize it away that night at Annie’s as just misplaced emotions. Her mind’s attempt to make sense of the divorce and just everything else that had happened lately by imprinting on the first man she’d spent any significant time with, nothing more. 

But that was before the dreams.

They started simple, easy. 

The two of them having dinner in the backroom, comfortable together, or meeting in the warehouse, overlooking everything side-by-side in his office. 

They were simple, easy, until they weren’t.

Suddenly as soon as she shut her eyes she saw them pressed tightly together, felt his hands on her body, the heat of his breath against her neck, the rasp of his beard on her thighs. 

She’d even woken up that morning so sure she’d actually find dark bruises on her hips from how hard he’d been pushing dream her into the printer as he fucked her from behind, his mouth tucked against her neck while his fingers rubbed her to a peak that never came.

And it’s too much, being here with him when she’s still so undecided, so confused about what any of it means or even what she wants it to mean, but before she can hide herself away Lucy spots her and waves her over to join them.

“Beth, you never told me you had a boyfriend!” Lucy says, and Beth smiles nervously, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, willing away the shiver going up her spine when she clocks Rio’s eyes following the movement, traveling down to her décolletage for just a second before meeting her gaze again and smirking.

“You keepin’ me a secret, muffin?”

The blush on her cheeks blazes at his teasing, and she imagines it only gets worse when Rio wraps his arm around her waist loosely, tugging her closer to him, and this is his payback, she realizes, for avoiding him. Well that or the open book of wedding invitations he was apparently looking over with Lucy. 

“It just hadn’t come up yet,” she stammers out, making Rio laugh.

“Well _Rio_ was about to tell me how you two met,” Lucy comments, eyes wide as she glances between them. 

Rio hums, and Beth has to take a deep breath when his grip on her tightens, burns into her skin even through her clothes.

“Our kids played soccer together.”

“Nah, the real story, darlin’,” Rio drawls, shaking his head, and Beth narrows her eyes at him in warning, but he just grins, clearly taking pleasure in the whole situation. “See I used to do business with her ex and one day she showed up to a meetin’ instead wantin’ to negotiate new terms. Guess you could say she made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

“How romantic!” Lucy chirps.

Rio nods, dropping a kiss to the top of her head, and then suddenly Beth has a name for this thing, this haunting thing.

Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always to the amazing fortunehasgivenup for beta'ing and for just being so incredibly encouraging and supportive while I wrote this chapter. She's the best.
> 
> And thank you to everyone for reading and leaving any kudos/comments - I appreciate it (and you) so much!
> 
> See everyone next chapter where things heat up!


	7. Chapter 7

“I’m sorry, but he called you what?”

Beth laughs, waving the almost empty bottle of wine at Ruby before pouring the last bit in her glass and leaning back against the counter.

“Officer Lard Lad,” Stan huffs, looking up from trying to fix Beth’s tangled necklace to shake his head. “Literally my first day on the street and some kid’s out there acting like I can’t keep up with his scrawny ass.”

“Sure you don’t miss the mall yet?” Beth asks, shifting to the side to let Ruby put the garlic bread in the oven. 

It was a new tradition, Monday dinners at the Hills whenever Beth didn’t have the kids for the week, something Ruby had insisted on after she’d walked in on Beth eating an frozen meal alone two nights in a row. 

“Nope, just means I gotta put in a little more work at the gym,” Stan replies with a smirk. “This one’s been spoiling me with too many fancy home cooked meals lately.”

And Ruby rolls her eyes at that, squeezing Stan’s shoulder as she passes to grab some plates, moving a few of Sara’s pill bottles to the side. 

“My food isn’t the reason you can barely run a mile anymore, Stanley.”

Stan scoffs, tossing the pair of pliers down before taking off his glasses and sliding them into his shirt pocket, spinning on his stool to look at his wife.

“So it’s like that huh?”

“Well I believe in you,” Beth says, raising her wine glass in faux-cheers, winking at Ruby when he turns back around.

“Glad someone does around here,” Stan sighs, looking sheepishly back down at the pile of gold on the counter. “Sorry, think this might be a lost cause.” 

Beth shrugs, reaching over to accept the necklace from Stan, running her finger over the thin bar. It’d been the last thing her mother had ever given her, a piece from the grandmother she’d never met, and she knew the break wasn’t clean, but she’d still been secretly hopeful Stan could mend it. 

“Alright I’m here, did I miss the food?”

“Shoes,” Ruby chides without even glancing over at Annie, smiling when she groans and stomps back to the door to pull off her boots, tossing them to the ground with a dull thud.

“Happy now?” Annie asks, grabbing a piece of bread before flopping down on the couch.

“You forgetting something else?” Beth says, nodding at the sunglasses still perched on Annie’s nose. “The sun set about an hour ago in case you missed it.”

Annie huffs, pushing the frames up to rest on the top of her head.

“Happy _ now ? ” _

“I’m sorry, are you hungover right now?”

“And that’s my cue to check on the kids,” Stan mutters, disappearing down the hallway, and Beth raises her eyebrows when she clocks how bloodshot Annie’s eyes are, how rumpled her clothes are.

“Look, you two don’t get to judge me.”

“Hard week?”

“I mean you could say that,” Annie says, “between Josh and Skyler and Noah something was definitely hard.”

And Beth only just manages to not choke on her wine. 

“Really?”

Annie laughs, tugging her hair back into a ponytail. 

“You’re the one who asked and besides that’s only this past week. Before that was Tom and -”

“You know,” Beth interrupts, “if you were this dedicated to important things you might have actually graduated high school.”

“First off - rude,” Annie scoffs, “and second off, everyone knows that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, or many someone elses.”

Ruby shakes her head, muttering something under her breath about ‘needing Jesus’, but Beth can hear the hint of sadness wrapped up in Annie’s words, and it’s really only been a couple weeks since the whole Gregg incident. Taking another sip of wine, she pushes off the counter to sit next to Annie, bumping her shoulder lightly and smiling when she meets her eyes.

“Do I need to have the safe sex conversation with you again?”

“God no,” Annie cackles, and Beth can swear she sees the sadness melt off her face. “I’ve only just been able to start eating bananas again.”

Beth smiles.

“Speaking of safe sex though,” Annie starts, sharkish grin tugging on her lips before she elbows Beth in her side, “have you, uh, thought about cleaning out your cobwebs?”

And this time Beth does choke on her wine, sputtering a little as she coughs against the burn, which just makes Annie laugh again. 

“Seriously? Wow, okay, we definitely need to get you hooked up then because you deserve someone who isn’t Deansie.”

Annie pulls out her phone, loading some app, and Beth sighs, ready to open her mouth to ask her to stop, to say that she already has someone only to freeze at the thought, leaning back to watch the stream of rain drip down the glass doors.

Did she have someone? 

At first she’d kept waiting for whatever this thing, this nameless feeling, was towards Rio to just fade away and stop following her around like a phantom, overwhelming her, paralyzing her whenever it wanted. 

But then at some point it just became a part of her, something she liked, something that made her feel good… something she wanted to keep as her own.

It wasn’t love, she knew that much.

But it also wasn’t hell like she had thought. 

If anything the closer she got to the fire, the more she could see that the flames weren’t a warning or even a punishment, but a guiding light drawing her closer to a path of possibility, of freedom, barely visible behind all the smoke and ashes of her fears.

And it could all be hers  _ if _ she was willing to take the risk, to walk along the jagged edge through the flames to get it. 

_ If _ she was actually brave enough to risk falling.

“Alright well first we have to figure out a good profile picture,” Annie continues, scrolling through Beth’s facebook page and rolling her eyes. “Do you have anything without the kids or, you know, a floral button down?”

Beth lets out a shaky exhale, tracing her finger around the edge of her glass, and really how did she even explain that she didn’t want Annie’s help?

“How about we talk about something other than men?” Ruby calls out from the kitchen, and Beth smiles, grateful for the change, only to turn and see that knowing look on Ruby’s face.

“Do you want to talk about how I stopped by the diner earlier this week and Tony happened to mention you don’t work there anymore?” Annie asks, not even bothering to look up from her phone.

There’s a thud in the kitchen followed by a muffled curse as Ruby tries to clean sauce off her sweater, and god Beth should have realized something was wrong when she opened the fridge earlier to grab the wine and saw all the food stacked with careful reheating instructions. 

Beth might have been a stress baker, but Ruby’s tell was always pasta.

“Wait, what do you - ”

“Okay so what did I miss?”

And it’s still for a beat as the three of them watch Stan walk into the living room, dropping onto the chair, and Beth clears her throat, catching Ruby turn away from them out the corner of her eye, and she’s trying to figure out what to say when Annie breaks the silence.

“Say Stan do you happen to know any eligible bachelors down at the station?”

\--

The rain’s just starting to pick up when Beth slips inside Paper Porcupine a couple hours later.

She’s early so the space is still empty, quiet save the faint hum from the fluorescent lights when she flicks them on and wanders over to the printing press, running her finger along the frame and savoring the coolness of the metal on her skin.

There’s a few cards sitting on the tray, something with a snowman and penguin on the front, and she smiles as she plucks them from the press, putting them aside so she can get everything ready for tonight’s run.

They were  _ so _ close to finally getting it right, solving the last piece of the puzzle especially after the color on the last batch had been almost perfect, only a touch too orange for Rio’s taste. All that was left now was to experiment, adjust the quantities bit by bit until they have it…

Until they actually have a “real” ten dollar bill.

And maybe she should feel worse about it, ashamed at least about doing something so wrong, something  _ illegal, _ but all she feels is the flicker of pride in her chest at what she’s accomplished, at what’s hers.

Or will be hers soon enough.

Beth laughs, shaking her head a little as she pulls out the box of supplies from under the bureau and starts to lay out the different pigment bottles. Maybe she could convince Rio to let her frame the first bill, hang it on the wall as a memento of her being right.

“I know they call it funny money and all, but damn, ma.”

The bottle falls heavy on the workbench and Beth exhales sharply, turning to see Rio standing by the doorway, hand lifting to tug off his beanie, smirking at her because of course he would walk in at that moment. 

“Hilarious,” she mutters, righting the fallen bottle before moving to grab their notebook only to pause when she doesn’t see it. 

She shifts a couple old invoices to the side, half-listening to the shuffle of fabric as Rio hangs his jacket behind her, breathing out a sigh of relief when she finally finds the notebook tucked in the back of the drawer under a couple of Lucy’s old sketches.

“A’ight so what are we doin’?”

The table groans against Rio’s weight and it’s enough to make Beth glance over at where he’s leaning, eyebrow lifted in question. 

“Well,” she starts, flipping through the notebook again to find their last entry, eyes following the blend of hers and Rio’s handwriting, cursive and print mixed together, “you could set up the plates while I get the ink ready.”

Rio nods, pushing up the sleeves of his sweater before shifting away from the table, and it’s only then that she notices the red he has on. 

It’s deep, almost purple in the dim lights, with a low enough neckline that it leaves his tattoo on full display, and she blinks, trying to remember if she’s ever seen him in something that’s not black or even a dark wash denim before. 

He’d worn green that night at the bar when all of this started, but it’s not the same. That shirt didn’t have the same warmth, didn’t bring out the hazel in his eyes, didn’t frame the lean sinew of muscles in his forearms the same as it does now as he loads the tray on the press. 

Beth clears her throat, looking away to open  _ Creamsicle Dream _ to add to the glass container, watching the orange bleed through into the other yellow-ish ink before giving it a quick stir and passing it over to Rio.

“Looks good.”

“Sixtieth time’s the charm right?” Beth jokes, smiling when Rio chuckles, taking the glass from her, and she’s about to turn to set up the blenders for their next run when his hand lingers on hers, stays wrapped around her wrist, fingertips warm against her pulse until the sound of her phone vibrating on the workbench breaks them apart.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, walking over to check her messages, walking away from him.

And she doesn’t even try to quiet her groan when she sees that her screen is full of messages from Annie.

She’d been relentless throughout dinner, even dragging Sara and Harry into it, asking them what kind of guy their Auntie Beth should be with, and Beth had just sat there stuck, thinking about Rio and that path, glancing over the metaphorical edge to see how far the drop would be.

Her phone buzzes with another screenshot of a random guy’s profile, and Beth blinks, reading over the man’s description slowly before glancing back over at Rio, watching as he adjusts the levels on the press, his face soft and open.

Maybe she’d been wrong earlier. 

She’d kept telling herself that she was alone in this, caught in the darkness, trapped by the flames. But maybe she had a guide after all, she thinks, rubbing her wrist absently, feeling her heartbeat still racing under her fingertips. Someone who could steady her, keep her safe while they went down together into the unknown.

Someone to share the burn.

And suddenly it doesn’t seem that bad, the fire smaller, the path wider, lower, and maybe she was brave enough after all.

So she tosses her phone back in her purse, kicking it under the table out of sight before looking back over at the press, meeting Rio’s curious gaze.

“Just my sister.”

“Guess you two made up then?”

“Something like that,” Beth shrugs, walking back over to the press, brushing past Rio as she settles on the other side, eyes following the ink being applied. “Do you have any sisters?”

“Nah.”

The printer hums softly between them, and for second Beth wonders if maybe it doesn’t matter if she was brave enough when he continues.

“Got a brother though and he’s got two girls.”

“Let me guess, he’s older?”

Rio laughs.

“That obvious, huh?”

“Maybe only to another older sibling,” Beth says, smiling when Rio rolls his eyes.

He reaches out to pick up the now finished sheet of money, and Beth can almost feel the heat from the paper against her own skin as he turns it over to look at the different details before laying it down again to dig his wallet out of his back pocket and pull out a ten dollar bill.

“Think you finally did it, darlin’,” Rio drawls, tossing the real bill on top of the printed sheet, and Beth’s breath catches when she actually sees the bills next to each other, identical down to the cross-shading on Hamilton’s hair.

“That’s it?”

Rio hums, already distracted from what’s easily the biggest accomplishment Beth’s had in years as he stuffs the real bill back in his wallet.

“So what happens now?”

“It ain’t money yet, gotta get that straight first,” he says, loading another set of paper into the press before wandering over to start mixing more ink. 

“And how do we make it money?” Beth asks, voice hesitant, and really for all she’d thought about this moment she’d never considered what came after.

She glances back at the sheet sitting on top of the press, biting back a laugh when she sees the slightest smudge on the edge from one of Rio’s fingers, a smear of peach.

“Yeah I already got a system, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Rio sighs, rolling his shoulders slightly under her scrutiny.

“I’ve been doin’ this a long time, okay? My boys already know what to do to make sure none of this comes back on me.” 

And it still doesn’t answer her question or even tell her anything more about what it is that Rio actually does, but before she can even start to ask what his boys do he’s walking over to her and stopping so close that the edge of his shoes brush hers.

“All you gotta do is keep makin’ this shit and let me take care of the rest, yeah?”

Beth nods, too lost in the way he’s watching her to say anything else, especially when his hand lifts and he sweeps his thumb along her cheek before pushing a loose curl behind her ear. And she’s been here before, in a dream, only this time she can actually find out what he feels like, what he tastes like, and she’s just about to shift forward to bridge the distance between them when his gaze slides over her shoulder and he backs away.

“I have to go handle somethin’, you got this?”

“Yeah,” Beth says, nodding as she turns to add the new ink to the press, trying to calm herself. “No problem.”

“Cool.”

He grabs his jacket off the hook, fixing hers when it almost falls before heading towards the door, stopping in the doorway to look back at her, smirking.

“Don’t forget to lock up.” 

The door bounces lightly in the frame behind him, and Beth waits a minute, frozen in place by the press, just in case he changes his mind and comes back, finally moving again when she hears an engine rumble outside.

\--

“Pick up, pick up, pick up.”

“ _ Hi you’ve reached the voicemail of Ruby Hill. I’m not - ” _

Beth groans, and at this point she could probably recite Ruby’s voicemail greeting word for word as she waits for the beep. 

“Hey, it’s me again,” she sighs, pulling into her driveway. “Just wanted to check in and talk about the other night, make sure you’re okay. So just call me back, please.”

And she hesitates for a second, sitting in her car, listening to the rain pounding the roof as she debates actually driving over to Ruby’s before turning off the car and heading out to grab all her groceries instead. 

Nothing good would come from forcing Ruby to share anything she’d clearly been hiding, so Beth could (impatiently) wait until she was ready. 

“Need some help?”

Beth gasps, spinning around to see Agent Turner standing under a black umbrella only a few feet away, smiling. 

“I think I’m good,” she says, shifting a few of the bags in her grasp, cringing when one of them snaps and tumbles to the ground.

“Good thing I was in the neighborhood, huh?” Turner laughs, rushing to pick up the bag and a few others from the trunk. “Here, let me help you get these inside.”

And she just smiles back before walking slowly to the house, taking a deep breath before she unlocks the door and lets him step past her.

“This is a nice place,” he comments, stopping to look at a framed picture of the kids hanging in the entryway.

Beth hums, setting the groceries down on the island, squaring her shoulders as if to seem like it wasn’t a big deal that this man was in her house, looking at her things, standing next to the dresser where she’d put that smeared sheet of money instead of shredding it.

“How long have you lived here?” 

“About ten years,” Beth replies. 

They’d moved in during the lull between kids, back when they were just a family of four and not six, or five now she guesses, and she can still remember touring the house for the first time, Danny asleep in his sling across her chest, watching the light stream in through the windows and streak across the hardwood floors, the kaleidoscope of colors that felt like a sign, a promise. 

Turner nods, finally making his way to the kitchen and carefully placing the bags on the counter before taking a seat on a stool.

“Reminds me a bit of my mom’s place back in Maryland.”

“It must be hard being so far away from your family,” Beth says hesitantly, unsure why he’s sharing this with her.

Turner laughs.

“You know my first assignment with the Bureau had me out in Los Angeles for months, chasing these big time drug dealers coming out of Mexico,” he pauses, drumming his fingers on the counter for a beat, “and all I wanted every damn night was my mom’s crab cakes.”

Beth smiles, and Turner just shakes his head. 

“Guess I got used to it though.”

Beth clears her throat, moving to slice the pound cake she’d made earlier in the day to do something with her hands.

“I’m sorry, but was there something you needed from me?”

“Just wanted to stop by, see how everything’s going with you and your new beau,” Turner replies, voice stronger, steadier now that it’s not lost in a memory, accepting a piece of cake when Beth slides it over. 

“Seems like the FBI should have more important things to worry about than my relationship.” 

“You’d be surprised,” he says, dragging his fork through the cake, hitting the plate and scraping along the ceramic. “But a lot of our work is really about finding connections, entanglements, weak links.”

Beth nods, trying not to cringe when his fork hits the plate again.

“Take your boyfriend for example. He ever mention a buddy named Eddie?”

“He has a lot of friends,” Beth breathes. “I haven’t met them all yet.”

“Right, cause you’re taking it slow,” Turner smiles, pointing his fork at her. “Well Eddie got picked up by some of my team the other day for a minor drug thing and he got to talking about Christopher.”

And Beth just blinks. 

_ Christopher? _

“Turns out they go way back, grew up in the same neighborhood and all that,” he continues, watching her a little closer now, considering her. “And I’m pretty sure they work together.” 

“Like at his bar?” Beth asks, widening her eyes just a little, using the same ploy she always had with Dean to seem simple, unassuming. 

Only it just makes Turner chuckle before he pops the last bit of cake in his mouth and chews slowly. 

“Anyway, so we get to talking and he’s not really giving us anything until suddenly he mentions something interesting.”

“Oh?”

“Would you believe he’s never heard of you?”

“Well I haven’t met -”

“I remember,” Turner cuts her off, making her jump when he stands quickly and walks over to the sink, shooing her away when she tries to grab the plate from him. “But see the funny thing is he seemed to remember someone named Rhea.” 

And it’s quick then, the knife cutting into her palm and the stinging pain.

“Or was it Rebecca?” Turner mumbles, oblivious as he slowly moves the plate under the water, “I’ve always been bad with names.” 

Beth scoffs, putting pressure on the cut, and at least it doesn’t look that deep, the pain already receding, leaving only the other more paralyzing burning in her veins. 

“Maybe he just got confused,” she says, proud that her voice doesn’t shake.

“Maybe,” Turner agrees, sliding the plate onto the drying rack. “Look, I’ve spent a lot of time following around guys like this and that’s why I came by today. I’d hate for you to just be someone’s collateral damage.”

And it’s already too late for that, she thinks absently, willing away the tears she can feel welling up in her eyes, and Turner must notice because he finally shows her some mercy by heading towards the front door, pausing by the same picture like he did earlier.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but you seem like a good person and you could actually really help us with our investigation if you’re willing,” he comments, reaching into his jacket to pull out a business card, laying it on the dresser. “You could help us make sure no one else gets hurt because of him.”

“I, I -” Beth starts.

“My cell’s on there,” Turner continues, tapping the card. “Take some time to think about it and let me know later.”

He grabs his umbrella, undoing the clasp to free the fabric before clearing his throat.

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

And she wants to stop him, call out into the rain after him to ask if he’s sorry about what Rio’s apparently done or for asking her to help bring him down, but it doesn’t matter. 

It won’t make her feel better knowing.

\--

“Okay, so is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No that will be all for now, dear,” the woman smiles, tucking the paper bag under her arm so she can slide on her gloves, and Beth smiles in return, trailing her towards the door. 

“Well someone will give you a call as soon as your order’s ready.”

The woman waves her off, disappearing off into the mist outside, and Beth just sighs, flipping the lock on the door before eyeing the chipmunk shaped clock on the wall. 

“Did she finally make up her mind?”

“You’ll be happy to know she went with the lavender paisley,” Beth says, wandering back over to the counter to clean up the different catalogues, slotting them back in place for the next customer. 

“Only took her an hour to decide,” Lucy laughs.

And an hour was probably being generous, Beth thinks as she pulls up a new order form, because it felt like that woman was there all day slowly pouring over catalogues trying to decide what to use for her daughter’s birthday party. 

“Any big plans for tonight?” Lucy asks, clicking off her desk light. 

“Not really,” Beth shrugs, squinting at the customer’s handwriting. “Dean has the kids this week so I thought maybe I’d stay late here and get some stuff organized.”

Not that the store really needed organizing. For all his eccentricity Mr. Fitzpatrick was actually pretty good with the ordering and cleaning. But Beth was sure she still could find something to do to keep her mind occupied on anything other than that card still sitting on her hallway dresser. 

(Anything other than Rhea or Rebecca.)

“No Rio?”

Beth shakes her head, hitting the tab key harder than necessary. 

“He’s busy.”

And it’s not even a lie. He’d made it clear early on that Thursdays weren’t open for him to help print the cash and Beth hadn’t thought anything of it then, but now she wonders if it’s because he’s with someone else.

The thought sits heavy on her chest, makes her take a sharp breath before she can start typing again, and it’s strange really. How all those months ago when Annie had joked about Rio having someone she’d been jealous, already longing for him without fully realizing it, and how now all she feels is numb, raw, mourning something that was never actually hers.

Something that was probably never going to be hers no matter what she’d thought.

“Oh I was going to ask him something,” Lucy says, pulling on her coat. “Max and I were thinking of getting tattoos of Au Jus and I wanted to know who did his ink.”

“Maybe next time,” Beth replies, already hoping it never comes.

Lucy nods, leaving with a plea that Beth not stay too late, and then she’s alone again, trying to push away all the memories of him from the space as she finishes entering in the day’s orders before clicking through the system to check which deadlines were coming up.

There’s a set of Christmas cards being picked up later that week and she grabs a sticky note to write herself a reminder to get them pulled and labeled, glancing back at the screen to make sure she has the right last name when she freezes. 

Because right under the Bentley order is her name. 

And she vaguely remembers mentioning to Lucy weeks ago that she wanted to order some cards, but she’s pretty sure she never actually followed through with it. 

So she finishes writing her note and clicks on the little ‘display more’ button, scrolling until she gets to the product description, expecting to see something about how it’s a holder for a future order, only it’s not about cards at all.

Instead it’s for two custom designs, one twenty dollar bill and one fifty to be used for a church fundraiser, and Beth blinks, confused as she reads over the specifications and delivery date because she definitely never asked Lucy to do that. 

Although it wouldn't be the first time Lucy played around with old projects, adding on beyond the original scope.

She’s about to hit delete on the entire order when she notices a line on the bottom of the form, a 313 phone number in the contact person field that definitely isn’t hers.

And it takes her a second to place it until the realization almost crushes her.

It’s Rio’s.

\--

“ _ Hi you’ve reached the voicemail of Ruby Hill. I’m not here right now, but if you leave a message I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks and have a blessed day. ” _

\--

“Another?”

Beth hums, sliding her glass forward enough to let the bartender fill it with another few fingers of bourbon, watching the amber liquid slosh up the side before settling. 

She’d splurged and gone top-shelf, picking a bottle that had probably aged for more years than she’d been alive, but she’d needed something good, something right when she felt so destroyed, betrayed.

And it wasn’t even what Rio had done.

It was her.

She’d let this happen. 

Twice.

She’d let two men keep her in the dark while they did whatever they wanted, using her for their own selfish needs, forgetting her behind when it was convenient. And when did she even become this person? This disposable person who apparently couldn’t realize when the wool was being pulled over her eyes.

It seemed so obvious now too. Why Rio insisted on always being around when they printed the cash, why he was so eager to learn the process with her. 

Why he’d been so nice to her, making her think she had a chance, that she was special when he had someone else already, when he didn’t care about her.

And she couldn’t even do anything about it.

She can’t turn him into the FBI, not when there was still this debt looming over her, not when she wasn’t convinced he wouldn’t take her down with him. 

Not when it meant she’d have to go back to just being a wife and mother, back to being invisible. 

She takes a sip of her drink then, holding it at the back of her mouth to savor the taste before swallowing. Maybe she never actually stopped being invisible. 

Someone bumps into her, pushing her forward, and she hisses, swaying enough to keep most of her drink in the glass and not on the wood bartop.

The bar wasn’t exactly the kind of place she’d usually pick if given the choice. It’s a little too hip for her taste, the kind of hip that brings freshly graduated twenty-somethings and upcharged drinks. 

But she’d been desperate for something to soothe her nerves after she found that order and this had been the first bar she’d stumbled on, so she was willing to overlook the massive pool table in the back and the weird photos hanging on the wall for just a little bit if it meant she could get a bourbon.

“Sorry, love,” says a voice behind her. “Didn’t mean to make you lose your drink.”

“It’s fine,” Beth sighs, wiping away the couple drops that escaped with her sleeve.

“At least let me get you a fresh one,” a man says, sliding onto the stool next to her, and Beth’s about to shake her head when he laughs. “Well, fancy seeing you here.”

And she wrinkles her nose, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the man’s sad attempt at a line when she realizes she’s actually seen him before, only the memory’s hazy. Just strong enough that she remembers his face and not any other details.

Which must be obvious because the man just laughs again, rocking forward on his seat to settle closer to her. 

“Guess I wasn’t as memorable as you,” he jokes, waving down the bartender, and Beth watches as he gives the other man some kind of complicated handshake, trying to figure out how she knew him.

Because he definitely wasn’t one of the hockey dads or a scouts dad, they all had about twenty years on him with big bushy mustaches, not soft green eyes or Irish brogues. It’s only when she catches the bartender say something about needing help with a shift that it hits her. 

He was at Ri-  _ his  _ bar, only on the other side of the counter, flirting with her until suddenly he wasn’t.

“You don’t spend enough time in bars already?”

“Ah so you do remember me,” Jack, she thinks, smiles. “You know I was hoping I’d run into you again.”

And that makes Beth arch an eyebrow.

“Really?”

Jack nods, spinning his glass in his hands. 

“Not everyday I meet an actual red-head out here in Detroit.”

Beth chuckles, taking another sip of bourbon, and she’s about to say that hers is courtesy of a little white box when his hand slides over just enough that his pinky finds hers and sweeps across it. 

And then it’s not just the alcohol making her feel a little flush.

“Was that really the only reason you wanted to see me again?”

“Nah,” Jack replies, his pinky finding hers again, “you seem more interesting than that.” 

Beth clears her throat softly, meeting Jack’s eyes and smiling, and god she still feels so numb, exposed, but then he smiles back at her, and she wonders if maybe Annie had a point after all.

\--

_ Missed Call (1): Ruby  _

_ Missed Call (2): Ruby  _

_ Missed Call (3): Blocked Number _

\--

“Fuck you feel good.”

Beth groans, tilting her head even more when Jack finds that spot on her neck, dragging her nails through his hair to keep him there. 

They ended up in a small bathroom, pressed against the faded yellow wallpaper, and Beth says a silent prayer to whoever owns this place for putting in individual rooms when Jack grabs her thigh and lifts it higher over his hip. 

She pulls him in for another kiss, tasting the beer on his tongue as she pushes back against him, rocks her hips just enough to get the friction she’s craving. 

And it’s really been too long since she’s had a release at the hands of someone else, and she’s not sure if it’s because he’s a stranger who doesn’t even know her name or because he’s not treating her like some porcelain doll, but she’s already so close, gasping breathless as Jack pumps into her faster, pinning her to the wall so she just has to take it.

His hand comes up to grab at her chest, palming her over the shirt she hadn’t bothered to take off, and she keens at his touch, sliding her own hands down to his hips to tug him in tighter. 

Then all it takes is another few well-timed thrusts, a few careful swipes of his fingers on her, and she breaks, biting her lip to stop from making too much noise and letting everyone back out in the bar know what was happening, how good he’s making her feel. 

She’s still blinking up at the lights, coming down, when Jack finally stills, slumping against her, and it’s almost comforting to have a warm body pressed against her, weighing her down.

(And when was the last time she ever felt that way about Dean?) 

They separate slowly, turning away from each other as Beth pulls on her jeans again, shrugs on her jacket, but she smiles at him when she’s done, suddenly unsure how to handle the aftermath, and he saves her, offers her a lifeline in the form of a parting kiss before she walks out the door.

And she should really go into the other bathroom to clean herself up, but all she wants now is a hot shower and her favorite pair of sweats, so she slips outside as quickly as she can before Jack comes out, not wanting to ruin what just happened with awkwardness and stilted conversation. 

The rain’s still coming down, dampening her sleeves under the awning as she leans back against the brick to catch her breath, closing her eyes. And it’s funny how the only thing she can think about then is that before tonight she used to be able to count the number of people she’d kissed on one hand, and she wonders how many more people are out there waiting to be hers.

A car alarm chirps nearby breaking her from her thoughts and she shakes her head, digging in her purse so she can actually get home. 

“Yo.”

Beth exhales, fogging up the air in front of her as she slowly counts to ten before glancing up to see Rio walking across the parking lot, Demon and another guy flanking him. 

“H-hey.”

He smirks, nodding at Demon when they slip past to head inside, leaving Rio behind, and Beth presses herself back into the brick, putting some distance between them when he stops right in front of her, blocking the way down into the parking lot.

“You headin’ out?”

Beth nods, wrapping her jacket around her tighter to fight off the wind. 

“I have the opening shift tomorrow.”

Rio laughs, and she can still feel her heart clench, warming in his presence despite everything.

“Yeah? I mean since you’re here and all, why don’t you stay - ” Rio starts, pausing when the door opens next to them and some couples spill out. She moves to the side more, letting them pass when the door opens again and she hears someone sigh in relief.

“There you are!”

Beth blinks, turning from Rio to see Jack grin as he makes his way over to them, her pink scarf in hand. 

“You forgot this.”

“Whoops,” Beth says, tucking it into her purse, feeling Rio’s eyes on her. “Would have missed that in the morning.”

Jack chuckles, shuffling in place, and Beth glances back over at Rio, catching his gaze flick up from her neck, where she can still feel the burn from Jack's scruff, to her face. 

And he’s wearing one of his dark hoodies, back in black, with the hood half-on so that it casts shadows across his face, sharpening his cheekbones, but it’s still impossible to miss how his face seems to darken, close off as he pieces together what’s in front of him.

“Well I’m gonna go back,” Jack comments, starting to back away, probably realizing he’s overstayed his welcome, but before he gets too far he reaches out and squeezes Beth’s elbow, running his thumb along her coat. “Don’t be a stranger, Elizabeth.” 

The door slamming shut seems to echo through her bones and Beth clears her throat, resisting the urge to squirm under the weight of Rio’s staring, even as her mind races, trying to figure out how Jack knew her name after all.

“I should probably go too,” she says quickly, sliding her purse over her shoulder, shifting to step around Rio when she feels his hand on her arm, stopping her.

“Nah, I think we need to have a little talk first.” 

\--

So she finds herself back inside the bar, walking with Rio down the same hallway she’d stumbled through earlier, a little drunk on bourbon and Jack’s flirting. 

And for a second she thinks he’s taking her to the end of the hallway, near the bathrooms, and she freezes, pushing back into the arm Rio has hovering around her waist to guide her, because she’s not about to have whatever this conversation is right outside where she’d just  _ been _ with Jack. 

Rio huffs, pushing her forward again, and Beth’s about to dig her feet in more when he stops outside another door she hadn’t noticed before, unlocking the room and steering her inside. 

She stumbles slightly when his arm leaves her side, catching her foot on the edge of the carpet before righting herself to take in the room. 

It’s an office of some kind, far enough away from the main part of the bar that she can barely hear the music, and she takes a few tentative steps deeper into the room to look at some of the black-and-white photographs resting on the desk, hoping Rio just gets this over with so she can go home. 

Only he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry, just lets her look around the office, familiarize herself with it, lulling her into a sense of security, calm, that shatters when he finally speaks. 

“So you havin’ a good time tonight?”

“I was,” Beth mutters, spinning to face Rio when he doesn’t reply, narrowing her eyes when he just keeps leaning against the door, watching her. “I’m sorry, but do you have a problem with something?”

“Yeah, maybe I do,” Rio drawls, finally pushing off the door to meet her in the center of the room. “See darlin’ you’re the one who told the FBI that we were seein’ each other, so how do you think it looks when you’re out at bars fuckin’ strangers?”

“Excuse me?”

“What part you not understandin’, Elizabeth?” Rio asks, purposely raising his voice at the end to mimic Jack, and Beth scoffs, rolling her eyes.

“Probably the part where you’re trying to lecture me about being discrete,” she bites out, feeling a flicker of pride when Rio’s brow furrows in surprise.

“You got somethin’ you wanna say to me?”

Beth bristles, and she wants to tell him what she knows, what Turner told her, but she refuses to be this person anymore. This person who’s so torn up over a man’s attention and affection.

“Yeah, I thought so,” Rio laughs, shaking his head. “See the only thing you need to worry yourself over with me is making my money.”

He turns then, ready to leave her alone with his vague threats, and really she’s just so tired, tired of feeling this way, tired of this man taking  _ everything _ from her, even the money she’d worked so hard on. 

But for the first time she actually has the upper-hand. She can fight back. 

“Might be hard without a plate,” Beth calls out, watching Rio’s back go rigid at her words.

And it’d been a last second choice, grabbing the plate on her way out of Paper Porcupine that night. She hadn’t even thought about what she was going to do with it, but now, hearing him call it his money, watching him condescend down at her, she’s happy she did.

“Good thing I got one then,” Rio says, squaring his shoulders, standing straighter, and she thinks absently that he’s building a wall around himself, around this fight he knows coming.

“Do you?” she asks. “Because it seems like I’m the one with a plate and printing press.”

He rocks his jaw, clenching it enough that it almost makes the wing of his tattoo jump.

“I ain’t playin’ games with you.”

“Then I guess you won’t get your plate back. Any of them.”

His hand flexes against his thigh, and Beth slides her own into her coat pocket, biting the inside of her cheek when she swears she sees the glint of gold flash in his pocket.

And it’s only then that she realizes that maybe she’s pushed him too far, that she might have some leverage, but it might not be enough as she watches Rio’s harden gaze sweep up her form, lingering on her neck before meeting her eyes again, and she’s about to backtrack when he exhales sharply.

“What do you want?”

Beth lifts her chin, pushing away the little voice that’s repeating  _ you _ .

“You forgive the debt,” she starts, feeling bolder when Rio raises a dark eyebrow in challenge, “and I get a cut of the money.”

There’s a knock at the door, a shadow through the frosted glass, but Rio doesn’t turn, just keeps holding Beth’s gaze.

“Sounds like you got it all figured out, huh?”

The door cracks open slowly, and Beth takes a step back, finally noticing how close they’ve gotten to each other as Demon walks in the office, glancing between them before clearing his throat. 

“There’s an issue up front.”

Rio nods, not looking away from Beth. He holds her stare for another moment, then two, before smirking and heading out with Demon.

“Wait,” she breathes, starting to reach out to grab his arm before stopping herself. “Do we have a deal?”

And he stops in the doorway, face hidden still, already so far away from her when he says.

“Go home, Elizabeth.”

\-- 

She wakes slowly the next morning, body stiff, hips sore, even after the long shower she’d taken when she’d gotten home, and she blinks, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes until her vision blurs and hides the sunshine bleeding through the curtains she forgot to close. 

And for a few moments she’s able to relax before the memories hit her, flood her senses of what had happened over the last few days. 

How did she get here?

Her phone buzzes on the nightstand, and Beth sighs, sitting up to rest against her headboard to read through the messages. 

There’s a few from Ruby, apologizing for disappearing, and even a couple from Annie filled with random emojis, but it’s the one in between their two names that draws her attention, the one without a saved name. 

_ 35% _

She smiles, running her thumb over the screen, over her victory, and maybe she didn’t need a guide through the flames after all. 

Maybe she just needed a trial by fire to find out what she could actually do.

Her fingers itch to reply back, to counter and demand more, but there’s time for that later when they print the next batch.

Now she needs coffee. 

She winces when her feet hit the ground, stretching a little before heading into the kitchen.

There’s still a few minutes left on the timer, until she can truly wake up, so she cuts herself a tiny sliver of cake, starts to flip through the mail piling up on the counter. 

And she almost misses it at first.

The envelope with an ‘E’ written on the front in an all too familiar handwriting.

She presses her thumb to the smudge of ink on the corner, the streak of black, closing her eyes when they line up.

And it’s light, barely anything at all in her hands. 

Even lighter then when the delicate gold necklace inside falls into her palm, so clear in the light now that the storm’s finally gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million thank you's to fortunehasgivenup up for beta'ing this chapter and just in general being super incredibly supportive while I wrote this chapter. Bonus shout out to sdktrs12 for helping me come up with the idea of Beth and Jack's little adventure with her comment all the way back in chapter four!
> 
> And as always - a massive thank you to everyone reading and leaving kudo's/comments! I really appreciate your support for this fic and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


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